


Acceptance

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Aftermath, Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Prison, Anal, Anal Beads, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Probing, Anal Sex, Awkward Blow Jobs, Bathing/Washing, Boys in Skirts, Brotherly Love, Butt Plugs, Butt Slapping, Caretaker Dean Winchester, Caretaking, Chastity Device, Child Abandonment, Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Bondage, Cock Cages, Cock Rings, Cock Warming, Comfort, Comfort Food, Coming Untouched, Consent Issues, Developing Relationship, Dissociation, Dom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Dominance, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Edgeplay, Enemas, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Exhibitionist Dean Winchester, Exhibitionist Sam Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Fear, Feminist Themes, Feminization, Feminized Sam Winchester, Figging, First Time Blow Jobs, Force Training, Forced Bonding, Forced Cohabitation, Forced Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Forced Prostitution, Forced Relationship, Hair Brushing, Hair Washing, Heavy Angst, High Heels, Humiliation, Ignored Safeword, Impact Play, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, In Public, Inappropriate Use of Vegetables, Kink Negotiation, Loss of rights, M/M, Makeup, Manipulation, Massage, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Painplay, Mildly Dubious Consent, Morning Wood, Naked Cuddling, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Groping, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Touching, Object Insertion, Object Penetration, Oil, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Platonic Relationships, Praise Kink, Prostitution, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Protective Siblings, Protectiveness, Public Claiming, Public Display of Affection, Public Nudity, Public Sex, Relationship Discussions, Relationship(s), Reminiscing, Rimming, Rough Oral Sex, Running, Safeword Fail, Safeword Use, Safewords, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Acceptance, Self-Doubt, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Mutilation, Self-Sacrifice, Sensation Play, Sex Toys, Sexual Humor, Shame, Sharing a Bed, Shaving, Situational Humiliation, Skirt-Wearing Sam Winchester, Sounding, Spanking, Sub Sam Winchester, Subdrop, Threats, Training, Trust, Trust Issues, Underage Prostitution, Unhealthy Relationships, Vomiting, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, depilation, physical exercise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2019-08-25 23:05:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 38,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16670089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Submission; Sam discovered was surprisingly easy as long as you trusted the one you were submitting to. And Sam had never trusted anyone more than he trusted Dean...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please look through the tags... This fic may be trigger-y to some. So be warned.

Sam swallowed as he dropped his gun and raised his hands, hearing Dean do the same behind him. They were surrounded, and both brothers were aware that it would not take much for them to be overpowered under current circumstances. And realistically, they had escaped long enough and were aware that if they wanted to stick together, there was only one real option: _one of them would have to submit to the other_. 

 

Problem was, neither was them was comfortable giving up control...

 

He turned around to face Dean, knowing they were not in danger as long as they complied and one of them submitted to the other. The ‘watchers’, as they were called; would even allow them to wrestle it out if they so chose... their other option was to concede that neither of them would submit to the other and then they would _both_  be taken.

 

And while neither of them wanted to submit to the other, they wanted to be separated even less. ...And that left only one course of action...

 

He met Dean’s eyes and his brother’s green eyes reflected the same uncertainty. He knew that if he was stubborn enough, Dean would accept his dominance... his brother loved him more than enough to not force submission on him, but. ... But Dean didn’t have a submissive bone in his body.

 

Dean would play along and possibly fake it enough to convince the watchers... but it wouldn’t be real submission. And if Sam had to push him enough to _actually_  make him submit, he would have to shatter Dean’s psyche completely. Break him down to rebuild him anew and Sam wasn’t sure he was skilled enough for that. It wasn’t as though Dean wasn’t aware of these facts, but even knowing them; Dean with his martyr’s complex was more likely to destroy himself than force Sam.

 

“Sammy? _Please_...” His brother’s broken voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he nodded before he had even consciously decided on his choice.

 

He lowered his eyes in silent submission once he registered his choice and leaned into the touch when Dean cradled his jaw comfortingly.

 

“You’re sure, Sweetheart?” His brother whispered.

 

 _Sweetheart_  ... it was already starting, Sam noticed. Dean had never used that endearment on him before.

 

He nodded mutely. It was strange how calm he was.

 

“Thank you,” Dean murmured, then louder; “Undress for me, Sammy.”

 

His head jerked up at the unexpected command and meeting the green eyes, he could see the challenge in them... Dean slowly preparing himself to take Sam’s place when he failed to comply... His hands shook but Sam forced himself to do it. Unbuttoning his flannel first and then yanking of the tee underneath. He had to bend down on one knee to undo his converse and socks and then with a deep breath, his jeans were off to. His hands rested at his boxers when he finally gathered the courage to meet his brother’s eyes.

 

 Dean nodded.

 

And then he was standing completely bare before his brother and the twelve watchers circling them. His hands wanted to cover his genitals but he stopped himself, knowing he needed to let this happen.

 

“Put your shoes and socks back on,” Dean told him gruffly.

 

It was awkward, but Sam managed, straightening up again once he was done. In a way it was even worse standing in his shoes and socks when the rest of him didn’t have a stitch on and he blushed.

 

Dean stepped forward, picked up his over shirt and tied it around his waist before turning to face their captors. “Let’s go.”

 

Dean kept a hand on the small of his walk the entire time and as comforting as the warmth was, Sam was acutely aware of his brother’s hand on his bare skin. Dean had picked up his discarded clothing and while Sam was grateful for it, he wished he could wear them instead of trekking along with his shirt awkwardly slung over him while wearing only his footwear. The watcher’s led them to their jeep and Dean climbed up with the men easily with Sam following suit hesitantly. He was uncomfortably aware of how vulnerable lifting his leg up on the high rungs to clamber into the jeep would make him and he would have preferred to keep walking, but no one was interested in his opinion and when Dean raised a single questioning eyebrow at his dithering, he resignedly gave in. The inside of the vehicle was dark, what with the canvas covering; and Sam relaxed fractionally, glad to have some modicum of privacy restored thanks to the darkness. He walked over to where his brother was, but when he went to sit, Dean clicked his fingers once and pointed to the space between his spread knees. Sam felt himself turn beet-red at the unspoken command, but knelt down without complaint.  He had just reacted at the unexpected command and not thought his actions through though; something which he was coming to regret as he realized that having knelt facing Dean, he was now comfortably close to his brother’s denim covered crotch.

 

A hand brushed through his hair firmly, the fingers digging in and massaging his scalp comfortingly; and while his gut instinct was to scramble back, the gesture calmed him enough to hold position.

 

“Sshhh...” Dean hushed as he tugged him closer.

 

Sam stiffened himself and struggled to maintain his position despite Dean’s tugging, but the vehicle took that second to start, making him lurch sideways. Dean caught and steadied him, but by the time Sam was settled enough to look again, he had been pulled as close as possible by his brother. He tried to carefully ease himself back, but Dean crossed his legs behind Sam, hemming him in. He glanced up with betrayed eyes, but Dean was already running his hands through Sam’s hair again and guiding his head down to rest against his right thigh. The position was not uncomfortable if not for his hands, but as Sam shifted imperceptibly to adjust them, Dean put a finger underneath his chin to get him to look up.

“Put your arms ‘round my waist, Kiddo.”

 

It wasn’t exactly ideal, but it was far more comfortable than his earlier position and with Dean’s fingers brushing through his hair rhythmically, Sam found himself dozing off swiftly.

 

He swam back to consciousness as the vehicle juddered to a stop and after a quick nod from Dean, unwound himself and straightened to climb out of the jeep. They had stopped before a slate-grey building and Sam swallowed nervously as they were led inside. He was directed to a small, plain white room while Dean was taken elsewhere and he started panicking at the separation till he was assured that Dean would return to him after ‘processing’, whatever that meant.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam had gooseflesh pimpling his skin by the time Dean appeared, dressed in a white tee-shirt under matching khaki over-shirt and pants. His brother had a distinctly pinched expression, the corners of his eyes tight and his lips thinned and Sam desperately wished he could ask what had transpired to bring about this reaction, but there was something forbidding in the tense set of Dean’s shoulders and he thought it prudent to hold his tongue.

 

“Let’s go,” His brother rumbled and Sam obediently climbed to his feet, following after Dean as they were led across a maze of corridors and stairs to a cell. Three brick walls in the same shade of slate-grey that marked the outside of the building made up their quarters while the fourth side was reminiscent of their ‘captive’ status with reinforced steel bars.

 

Narrow bunk-beds stood in the far right corner, pale grey linen sheets which complemented the grey of the walls were folded on the lower bunk along with two pillows.  There was an open cup-board taking up the rest of the right-wall, and Sam felt himself go weak-kneed as he eyed the array of instruments that Dean was purportedly planning on using on him. Swallowing his nerves, Sam glanced at the rest of the cell; there was a tiled, but open section on the left with a western style commode and a low showerhead which was separated from the rest of the cell by a row of raised bricks which had been tiled over. The side of the tiled area facing the steel-bars had a floor to ceiling clear plastic ‘wall’ ostensibly to ensure that the water didn’t go everywhere when the shower was used. There would be no privacy, but at least they wouldn’t have to share a communal bathroom with the rest of the inmates.

 

“Clothes and shoes, please.” The guard accompanying them murmured and Sam hesitantly gave up his only item protecting his modesty and knelt to undo his shoes. Once he’d unlaced and toed them off along with his socks, the man unlocked the door, motioning for them to step in. Dean glanced at him once before stepping in first and Sam followed, closing his eyes and struggling to regulate his breathing as he heard the door close and get latched behind him.

 

The inside of the cell was better lit than the corridor they’d just stepped in from and he glanced up to note the evenly spaced fluorescent lights overhead. The floor was cool against his bare feet and he shivered at the thought of being naked in an open cell like this. His eyes drifted to the ‘bathroom’ and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

 

“What’s got you smiling, kiddo?”

 

“Pooping is going to be as embarrassing for you as for me,”

 

Dean cleared his throat. “About that...”

 

His eyes jumped to his brother, “Dean?”

 

Dean glanced at him, but then his gaze skittered away uncomfortably as he confessed, “You’ll not be- You’re not going to be using that, Sammy... at least not the way you think.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“I’m supposed to administer daily enemas for you. I’m sorry.”

 

Sam felt his breath stutter at the announcement. He’d known it wasn’t going to be easy and being paraded naked while Dean was clothed had given him an inkling of just which direction his future life was going to take... and the sight of the items on the cupboard had confirmed his fears... but the thought of daily enemas put into perspective just how invasive the control over his life really was.

 

“Sshhh...” Dean shushed, taking his hand between both of his and tugging him towards the bed, “That’s not a problem for today, Sammy. C’mon now... You’ve had a long day.”

 

Sam crawled up onto the bed quietly, readily curling in Dean’s embrace when the older man opened his arms. Dean’s fingers were steady on his back where they were moving in firm circles and though his brother didn’t say anything, it didn’t take long for his heart to calm down.

 

“Better?”

 

He nodded without moving away from where his head was resting on Dean’s shoulder. He was still naked and he was still going to get an enema a few hours from now, but lying there with his head tucked into Dean’s shoulder, Sam felt inexplicably safe, like nothing could hurt him while his big brother was there to protect him. ... He was aware on some level that it was nothing more than a remnant of his childhood belief, but despite all their deaths and arguments and bitter fights and secrets...even now he trusted Dean implicitly.

 

“You should have let me,” Dean murmured, voice low enough that anyone walking by the cell, or any audio devices embedded in their cell would not catch his words.

 

“I trust you,” He whispered back, peering up to glance at his brother’s green eyes.

 

Dean swallowed, glancing away briefly before meeting his eyes again, “I-I’ll do my best... but Sammy, there are some things I can’t get you out of...mandatory things...  that’s what they were talking to me about when they separated us. ...”

 

“ _Mandatory stuff_... Like the enema you’re supposed to administer?”

 

“Like the enema,” Dean agreed. “And... and depilation”

 

Sam breath escaped in a gasp. “Depilation?”

 

“I’m so sorry, li’l brother...its one of the rules... I-I-I can let you keep your hair and your eyebrows... but you’re to be smooth as a baby everywhere else.”

 

Sam closed his eyes and burrowed deeper into his brother’s arms; he liked to think he wasn’t vain about his appearance, but he couldn’t help relaxing slightly at the knowledge that Dean wouldn’t be shaving his head after all. “When?”

 

Dean stilled for a moment before continuing with the comforting strokes on Sam’s bare back. “Whenever you want... I- I can’t stall them indefinitely, but yeah. You’re going to have at least that much leeway.”

 

Sam shifted to glance up at his brother’s face.

 

“We... uh- we could do it now, if you want.” Dean continued after an awkward minute of silence, “Or we could do it tomorrow.”

 

“I-... I don’t know, Dean. What would you suggest?” He answered softly, peering up questioningly at the older male.

 

“You’ll already be having a hard day tomorrow.” Dean confessed, “I’ll try to take it as slow as I can- ease you into stuff, but yeah; there’ll be enough new experiences tomorrow.”

 

He shifted up into a sitting position, “So, now?”

 

Dean sat up with him, “Now.”

 

Sam nodded, “What- what do I have to do?”

 

Dean’s hands buried themselves in the thick hair as he scratched at his scalp comfortingly, “Nothing. Just sit here.”

 

Sam nodded, watching as Dean fetched two jars from the cabinet a plastic knife. He perused the instructions on the jars briefly before ripping open the seal and dipping his hands in.

 

“Ready?”

 

Sam nodded, watching as Dean scooped out some of the foul-smelling goop and lathered it on his face.

 

“I thought my eyebrows were safe,” He mumbled as his brother evenly spread the paste on his left cheek.

 

“They are, but you’ll not have facial hair anymore, Kiddo. The way I see it, that’s actually quite a positive!” Dean returned while applying gentle pressure on his face to indicate he needed to turn his head.

 

Sam smothered a grin at the teasing, thinking of how proud he’d been to get his peach-fuzz because his brother already had it at that point and he wanted to be like Dean. He closed his eyes as Dean carefully worked his way downwards, coating his neck and chest and then asking him to curl his fingers around each other behind his head so that he could do his underarms as well.  He lay back as Dean continued working his way down his body, covering his treasure trail and then his pubic mound. Sam clenched his eyes shut as he felt Dean’s fingers at his groin, tears escaping the tightly clenched lids in embarrassment. His thighs and calves were covered next and then Dean was straightening up, obviously done. The paste had started to burn at his face by then and after another minute, Dean guided him to the shower; carefully scrubbing it off. Sam didn’t bother helping, standing under the spray with his hands locked behind his head and watching as the thick foamy residue run down his body and swirl into the drain, taking with it his body hair. Once done, he felt even more naked than he had earlier in the day when he’d had to undress before his brother and twelve strangers. He was trembling but didn’t protest as Dean briskly dried him off.

 

Assuming they were done, he took a step towards the bed and froze when Dean grabbed his arm, stopping him.

 

“Not done yet, Sweetheart.”

 

Sam nodded hesitantly; confused about what was meant when Dean guided him to the plastic partition, gently pressing his forehead forward till it rested on the ‘wall’. One of the guards glanced at their cell as he patrolled the corridor outside and Sam flushed with shame as he imagined the view he must be providing.

 

His back was done with the same efficiency that Dean had covered his front with and then Dean was guiding him down to his knees on the wet tiles. He shivered, but obeyed; wincing when the back of his head was gently cupped and lowered to the floor.

 

“Now I want you to reach behind yourself and spread your butt-cheeks apart,” Dean murmured.

 

Sam whimpered but obeyed with trembling fingers, shivering when he felt the cool air caress his most intimate part. He instinctively tried to cower away when he felt Dean smear the foul past there as well, but frankly there was nowhere to go and he gave in resignedly. It wasn’t long before time was up and Dean was sluicing water over him, gently cleaning him as he washed away the paste.

 

He found him questioning the wisdom of his decision as he allowed his brother to dry him and guide him to bed again- _this was not even day-one and he was already exhausted_. He was aware that the depilation wasn’t even the worst of what he was going to be subjected to, hell; given how painless it was, it may not even be on a list of things that were ‘done’ to him in the long term. It was just a taste of what lay ahead of him and Sam was already ready to throw in the towel- he wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball in some dark corner where no one would spot him, and cry. Silent tears coursed down his cheeks as he wondered for the first time if he was going to survive this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter for now before we get to actual stuff...

The next time he was awake, he found himself curled against his big brother; his eyes felt gritty and he could feel the tightness on his cheeks where the tears he had shed last night had dried. He was turned towards Dean and though he was still naked, somebody- _Dean_ \- had taken the trouble to cover his bare body with a sheet and he was grateful for the privacy it offered. He moved his leg slightly, shuffling closer to Dean and putting it over his brother’s feet... and somehow, the feel of the sheet against his body, the texture of Dean’s pants and the firm muscles underneath all felt amplified, his skin hypersensitive. He swallowed, suddenly aware of his morning wood and how the new position was pressing his groin to Dean’s hip; swallowing a moan- _because he didn’t want to wake Dean-_ he tried to withdraw, gasping when Dean’s arm- _which he’d been using as a pillow, he realized with a blush-_ suddenly, tightened around him; trapping him in place.

 

“Sshhh...” Dean hushed, shifting slightly as though still asleep; and turning to face him, arms tightening around his younger sibling and pulling him closer like he was not a grown man but a pillow for him to cuddle.

 

Sam wanted to splutter in outrage, the only thing stopping him was the knowledge that Dean had a plan and he needed to play along till he figured it out. It was unbearably awkward lying in bed like this with his brother- it had been _years_ since they had shared a bed, and even then, they had both been fully clothed; so this- him lying stark naked in Dean’s arms with his morning wood pressed humiliatingly to Dean’s hip had him tensing unconsciously, body preparing automatically for fight or flight.

 

“Pretend you’re still asleep,” Dean hissed, finger’s clawing to make his blunt nails dig into Sam’s side in warning as he felt the younger man begin to tense.

 

Sam closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to calm himself. After a few breathes he could feel himself begin to relax and he shifted to find a more relaxing position. When Dean stayed pliant, allowing Sam to situate himself comfortably but staying protectively curled around his younger brother, he found himself grateful for his brother’s presence. Since they were both on the lower bunk, the empty top bunk provided a semblance of privacy. And the sheets- thin as they were; were better than nothing.

 

“Talk?” Dean murmured.

 

Sam found himself unable to stop his smile at his _‘no-chick-flick-moments’_ brother volunteering himself for a ‘talk’.

 

“How’re we supposed to survive this, Sammy?”

 

And Sam was abruptly grateful that he had chosen the easier role: sure, he would be trained as a ‘submissive’, but at least he wouldn’t have to live with forcing his brother through something he didn’t want. “I trust you,” he reiterated.

 

“I made you cry last night,” Dean whispered, his own eyes wet as he was swamped with guilt.

 

“I was overwhelmed, yes.” Sam conceded, “Not hurt. You can’t hurt me, Jerk.”

 

Dean just blinked, too upset to reply with his customary comeback. Sam smiled sadly at the older man, heart clenching as he realized just how hard Dean was taking this but unable to alleviate his brother’s pain.

 

“Have you ever been with a man?” Dean asked unexpectedly as a long minute of just staring at each other.

 

“I always thought you were a _'man'_ , Dean.” He snarked back, hoping to lighten the mood.

 

“I’m your brother!” Dean hissed. “And I meant romantically.”

 

He sighed, apparently there was nothing he could do about his brother’s mood.

“No,” Sam admitted, hurriedly adding: “Was always curious ‘bout it though.”

 

“Why didn’t you-?”

 

“I’d only trust one man to be vulnerable with like that, Dean.”

 

Dean stared at him for a moment before whispering, “Who?”

 

He stared back calmly, “I think you know.”

 

Dean’s eyes widened impossibly at the confession, cheeks turning pink.  “Thank you,”

 

Sam smiled, glad to have eased Dean’s mind; even if only slightly.

 

“A lot of what they expect is sexual... or at least centres around your genitals.” Dean confessed, looking impossibly sad again.

 

Sam forced himself not to flinch at the words, shrugging casually instead, “Like I said, I trust you.”

 

Dean nodded. “Ready?”

 

Sam smiled, “Ready.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated, please check if you want to continue reading.
> 
> Warning for Elimination kink.

Sam finished his morning ablutions and when he straightened from rinsing his mouth and spitting; he found Dean behind him. His brother’s face was relaxed into a placid mask but Sam recognized that look- Dean had worn it when he’d been hell-bound, when he’d been told by the angels that he and Sam were archangel-vessels and then more recently when the mark of Cain had been twisting his soul; and Sam was terrified of it. This was his brother’s mask when he was faced with an unpleasant task- he would do it, do it with a smile even... but that was the very thing that frightened him; Dean could perform the vilest tasks when he had that mask on. Sam guessed it was only fitting that Dean wore it now.

 

“Hands and knees... Like yesterday,” Dean murmured, warm, callused fingers curling soothingly at his nape.

 

“Dogeza,” Sam returned, struggling to keep his voice level as though he was just enjoying regular conversation with his brother.

 

“Hmm?” Dean paused.

 

“This position,” Sam explained, “It’s called _dogeza_ in Japanese; it’s used to show respect or obeisance.”

 

“Nerd,” Dean shot back affectionately as he crouched next to Sam on the tile floor.

 

Even with his forehead pressed to the floor, Sam couldn’t help but smile at the fondness in Dean’s tone; knowing his brother didn’t care for such over-the-top symbolic actions, but that they would both have to deal with it for the moment.

 

“So, did your _respectful Japanese_ reach behind them and bare their asshole’s too?” Dean asked as he guided Sam’s hands into the pose he wanted.

 

Sam snorted, “You’re picturing your anime crush doing it, aren’t you?”

 

“You know me too well, brother.” Dean grinned before sobering, “I’m just going to ease the way, okay? Don’t freak out.”

 

Sam’s smile vanished instantly as he felt Dean’s trigger-callused finger brush over his hole. He couldn’t help clenching instinctively and gasping at the alien sensation.

 

“Sshhh... try and relax as much as you can, okay? Don’t make me hurt you, Sammy, _please._ ”

 

Sam blinked back tears at Dean’s pleading, hating the system anew for making his proud older brother beg so pathetically. He nodded.

 

The finger disappeared for a moment, only to return coated with a slippery substance and Sam struggled to keep from clenching as it petted his most intimate opening till he could _feel_ the sphincter giving way. He gasped as it slid in tentatively; exploring the clenched chute and massaging his inner walls to relax them. It wasn’t painful, but it was awkward and uncomfortable and he was glad when Dean withdrew. It was only a moment later that he realized that the finger’s withdrawal was not a good sign as something hard and cold replaced it. The nozzle wasn’t much larger than Dean’s finger, but it was unyielding and cold and burrowing way deeper into his bowels that Dean’s finger had. _He hated it_.

 

After another interminable minute, the nozzle stilled; then there was a muffled sound like unscrewing a bottle cap or something and it twisted inside him to lock on firmly. He whimpered.

 

Dean stopped whatever he was doing to rub his back comfortingly; waiting till Sam gave a silent nod of permission before opening the nozzle. He gasped as he felt the first trickle of water inside him; it wasn’t painfully hot or cold but it was going into a part of him where Sam had never filled like this before and it was uncomfortable. Dean sat cross-legged next to him and rubbed his sides and back as they waited for his colon to fill and while part of Sam was humiliated, truthfully, he couldn’t deny how much he appreciated Dean’s presence.

 

He winced when the cramps started and Dean rubbed him the way he used to when Sam was just a child and had tummy-aches. The memory made him smile because here was his brother all these years later, still soothing his pains. Once he was deemed ‘full’ enough, Dean shut off the flow and carefully eased out the nozzle. Ordering Sam to hold position, he cleaned and sterilized it for it’s next use. Then he was back and helping Sam waddle to the toilet where he let go with an embarrassingly loud fart. The stench as the water exited his bowels was terrible and he could see Dean’s nose wrinkle in distaste, but his brother stoically stayed with him. There were wet gurgles from his belly and he could feel his insides twisting like there was more to expel, so it was with reluctance that he cleaned himself at Dean’s insistence.

 

He was back on the tiled floor, holding his cheeks open the minute he was finished; there was no prep to loosen him this time, just the lubricated nozzle sliding back in and Sam groaned as he was filled again. It seemed to go on for ages and he was sure the volume was going to rupture something inside but he was incapable of making anything beyond grunts and groans and Dean appeared oblivious to his predicament. Ultimately, unable to take it anymore, he spread his legs wider, easing the press of his stomach against them. It eased the discomfort slightly, but it also raised his ass higher, increasing the speed at which the water flowed into him. He sobbed when relief when Dean finally shut the flow off; but instead of easing out the nozzle like last time, his brother guided him to let go of his butt and straighten his legs till he was lying prone on the floor- his weight on his water-filled belly was absolute agony and tears leaked out as he struggled to keep from screaming. He was carefully rolled onto his back and if his weight on his belly had been bad, this was no better. He wondered what he looked like- tears marring his face and his stomach curving up gently as he lay on the floor with the enema nozzle still in his butt and the tube going between his legs. Dean wiped his face before starting to gently knead his curving stomach. He whined as the water sloshed inside him at the movement, starting a fresh round of cramps that had him clenching on the nozzle instinctively. A minute into this new torture, Dean eased back; removing the nozzle sealing him and strong arms guided him up and to the toilet so that he could empty himself again. The stench was considerably less this time but if he never had an enema again in his life, it would still be too soon.

 

Sadly for him, he was back on the floor getting his colon re-filled the minute he was done emptying it.

 

“Last one,” Dean whispered, sitting cross-legged before him and guiding Sam’s head to his lap. Dressed in the regulation sweat-pants, tee-shirt and over-shirt provided by the centre; he smelled sterile, but when Sam snuggled closer, he got hints of Dean’s own scent underneath: leather and gun-oil with a hint of his Old-Spice cologne, the only cologne he had used right from his teens. Sam liked to experiment, test other brands but Dean had stuck to the same one all these years and now it was part of his own odour. He smiled as he breathed the comforting smell in, remembering how the very scent of Old Spice used to make him homesick back at Stanford. Dean’s fingers played with his hair absently and for a moment it was just the two of them- no humiliating nozzle stuck up his bum and no prison to keep them. The illusion disappeared as fast as it had come and Sam clenched his eyes as the cramping started anew. The water reached the first enema mark, and then the second one and crossed it too and Sam was finding it increasingly hard to stay still.

 

“You don’t need to hold yourself open anymore,” Dean told him and released his hold on his butt-cheeks with relief.

 

He wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, fingers clenching and releasing the coarse material of his over-shirt in agitation as the water continued to seep in him but Dean gave no signs of stopping the flow. The pain was bad enough that he was practically wagging his butt like a puppy in search of relief but there was no sign of abatement. He risked a peek down and felt his eyes widen in horror at the sight of his bloated stomach. Panicked, he tapped Dean’s knee to show his brother his predicament and felt his heart sink at the single head-shake, “Just a li’l more, Sammy.”

 

He was trembling by the time Dean turned off the water.

 

“Clench; don’t want to see a trickle once I remove this, okay, Kiddo?”

 

He nodded, and then whined as the nozzle scraped his tender insides on its way out. It felt like too much and he was terrified of leakage as he felt it pop out of him.

 

“Dean!” He gasped, “Please. I can’t- I... I’m trying but I can’t. Please...”

 

“Sshhh...” His brother soothed. “It’s okay. I’ll get you a plug to help, alright? Can you hold on till then?”

 

Eyes wide, he nodded; watching as Dean sprinted to the far side where the cabinet with its toys lay.

 

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Hey, you! Get here.”

 

Both Winchesters jumped at the loud call and watched as two burly guards stood at the bars, gesturing for Sam to approach them. Swallowing nervously, Sam glanced at Dean. His brother nodded his permission, but given the way his lips were pinched, Sam was fairly certain that Dean wanted anything but the guards interacting with him. Still, despite Dean’s apparent ‘authority’ he was as much a prisoner as Sam and he gave his grudging permission.

 

Accepting his fate, knowing that things were probably about to get infinitely worse for him, he made his way to the front of the cell, his swollen stomach swaying ponderously with each step and sending ripples of cramping agony with each movement.

 

“Position!” One of them barked as Sam stopped before them.

 

He was shivering wreck from his trek all the way from the tiled ‘bathroom’ region to the front of the cell and his vision was swimming with the pain of the cramps assailing him. He glanced quizzically at the men at their order, uncertain about what it meant and worried that his failure to comply would end up getting him and Dean in more trouble.

 

“You don’t know what _Position_ means?” The other man asked at his confusion.

 

He shook his head mutely, eyes begging for mercy.

 

“Huh.” The man grunted, “Well, spread your legs- shoulder width apart should do it. Then lean forward and grab the bars.”

 

Sam’s eyes widened in horror at the explanation, sure he would start leaking the moment he spread his legs.

 

“Do it!” The impatient one barked, making him jump. Then with a cruel sneer added, “And you better not leak!”

 

Whimpering softly, Sam moved to obey; face going red as he felt a drop escape his clenched sphincter.

 

“Did you manage it?” The guard who had explained the command demanded, sharp eyes taking in his every trembling inch.

 

Not wanting to get punished, he nodded his head; hoping his lie would not be discovered.

 

“Are you lying?” The man demanded, suddenly pushing his hands between the bars to give Sam’s bloated stomach a mean squeeze.

 

Sam let out a yelp of surprise at the unexpected action and felt his eyes widen in unadulterated terror as there was the unmistakable sound of liquid hitting the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been Updated. Please check before reading.

The sound was loud in the stillness of the cell and Sam clenched immediately, even knowing it was already too late. Things were bad enough already, he didn’t want to find out what happened when punishments were added to what was already being done and he clenched his eyes shut tightly- hoping that like a child if he couldn’t see them, then they couldn’t hurt him either... He had just started trembling when a warm palm covered his nape and Sam felt some of his terror dim, knowing his brother was there and would help him.

 

“He needs to be punished,”

 

Sam peered up through his hair, which had fallen over his fore-head, shielding his eyes. The guard’s voice was gentler and he realized that he was not the one being addressed.

 

“It’s his first time today,” Dean defended. “Please...?”

 

“Yes, but he still disobeyed a direct order. That has consequences. ... Tell you what, we’ll take it easy on him today: just fill him with another twenty ounces or so to make up for what he lost, and then give him a light spanking.”

 

Sam swallowed; he could feel Dean tensing behind him, obviously unhappy with the demand and relaxed against his hand, hoping his brother would take the hint. Eventually, Dean acceded with a nod.

 

He straightened with a wince, leaning willingly into Dean as his brother slung an arm around his shoulder to lead him back to the ‘bathroom’. Once there, Sam glanced helplessly at Dean; aware that it was impossible for him to squat without leaking. His brother regarded him contemplatively for a moment before leading him to the toilet bowl, closing the lid and walking back to retrieve the enema nozzle. When he returned, he placed his right palm against Sam’s chest while urging him with his left to bend forward.

 

“Rest your hands on the lid, arms straight, c’mon, you can do it... easy, easy... yeah! Good boy!”

 

Sam was panting by the time he was finished obeying Dean’s instructions, grateful for the hand supporting him- Dean’s wordless sign that he would catch Sam if he slipped. He held his breath as the nozzle was reworked inside his sore hole and then more water was flooding his bowels.

 

“How much?” He whispered, needing to distract himself from what was being done to his body.

 

“Guard said 20 fluid ounces, so yeah.” Dean returned, his left hand restlessly moving up and down Sam’s back in a helpless effort to comfort.

 

“In litres,” Sam gasped out, struggling to keep the conversation going. Perhaps it was a morbid topic, but under the circumstances, he couldn’t think of anything else. “Forgot the conversion...”

 

“Oh, uhm... about half a litre, Kiddo.”

 

Sam’s eyes widened in horror at the thought of another _half a litre_ of water in his gut, “Dean...!”

 

“Sshhh... you can do it, kiddo. It’s not all that much, ‘kay? Relax... You’ve just got about half a litre in you now... A little less than that to be honest,” Dean explained as he petted him, “A normal enema is a little less than a litre... and you can work up to two or three... _five_ , in extreme cases.. So one should be uncomfortable, but it won’t hurt you. I promise- _it’s the standard medical enema volume, Sammy._ ”

 

Sam whimpered but settled, knowing they were being watched. Fortunately, he was filled faster than he had anticipated and all too soon Dean was withdrawing the nozzle and demanding he clench. His brother sprinted away and returned equally fast with one of the smaller butt-plugs from the cabinet clenched in his fist.

 

He glanced apprehensively at the smooth object in Dean’s hands and blew out a breath when he noticed it’s shiny surface, realizing that Dean had already lubricated it.

 

“Okay, deep-breath, Sammy.”

 

He obeyed and then yelped as Dean pushed the plug in with one forceful shove. It burned something terrible for a moment and he wondered if he had ripped something, but Dean was already spreading his cheeks and checking for tearing and declaring him whole.

 

Sam straightened from his bent position, groaning at the unfamiliar weight of his abdomen. He meekly followed as Dean led him back to the front of the cell and helped him assume the ‘ _position’;_ the two guards scrutinising their every action with frankly, an _unhealthy amount_ of care.

 

“I’m not going to use any implement this time,” Dean announced clearly, “Just my bare-hands. And you’re going to get twenty whacks. Think you can count them out for me, Sammy?”

 

He groaned and shook his head, hoping he wasn’t antagonising the guards and baiting further punishment and trusting Dean to take care of him.

 

“Okay, no problem,” Dean answered easily before either guard could say something.

 

Sam breathed out a sigh and braced himself when Dean’s hand went flat on his back for a moment and stilled- their unspoken sign to prepare for something which had to be done but was going to be unpleasant and /or hurt.  Dean didn’t wait for his nod and the first hit had him rocking forward into the cell’s bars.

 

“Dammit, Sammy!” Dean cursed, pulling him back in position and rubbing briskly where his head had banged against the steel grill. “Tighten your grip and for heaven’s sake _don’t_ rock forward. You’re not escaping anything that way!”

 

Sam snorted at the admonishment but obediently tightened his grip, only allowing a gasp to escape as Dean’s gun-callused hands came in contact with his unprotected rear again. ... The hit sloshed the water inside him and jostled the plug, pulling a whimper from him. ... He found himself wondering how anyone could do this to children- he was a grown man and it was damn near unbearable for him, but to hit a child like this? Their father must really have had a heart of stone... Sam sighed, disengaging from his surroundings to sink into ... _well, not exactly pleasant but-_ memories. He had never been spanked a day in his life (at least till today); Dean however had not been as lucky. His older brother had gotten into trouble more often and had ended up over their father’s lap till he was as old as sixteen. Naturally heir Dad hadn’t filled him with an enema beforehand to make it _really unpleasant_ , but he figured getting bare-assed spankings were bad enough for a teenager. Sam had been twelve when the man had started insisting he be present for Dean’s punishments- that time it had been because Dean had argued that Sam wasn’t accountable for whatever had gone wrong and since _he_ was the one responsible for Sam, he should be the one being punished. Sam wasn’t sure why John Winchester had agreed to such a lame argument when it had been clearly Sam’s fault- Dean not even on the scene when he had accidentally used Dad’s research for kindling; but he had. _Maybe John had known that even being their father would not save him from Dean’s wrath if he touched Sam?_

 

Anyway, Dad had agreed, but insisted Sam remain in the room to see what his mistake was going to cost his brother. His brother had been humiliated at his presence, but his fear that John would change his mind and punish his younger sibling instead had kept his protests unspoken. Sam remembered being the one who ended up crying by the time the punishment ended. Despite just having his butt whaled upon, it was Dean who had comforted Sam that long-ago day. Fortunately there was only one other time Dean had earned a spanking after that- his own fault for disobeying and leaving his post while on a hunt, this time- but what John hadn’t known was that Dean had only left his position because Sam had slipped while climbing the tree he was supposed to hide in and had left out a muffled squeak as he had slid down to the ground. He hadn’t been injured, but Dean- _overprotective as ever-_ had abandoned his own spot to help Sam climb back up. Neither brother had been free enough with their father to explain what had happened nor had John asked for an explanation and Dean had taken the licks stoically.

 

Sam was brought out of his thoughts by the jostling of the plug sealing his rectum when Dean’s hand accidentally glanced off it. He would have thought Dean wouldn’t know how to administer a spanking given how he had never raised a hand to Sam growing up despite whatever bratty attitude he had thrown during his teenage years; but as things stood, it was apparent that Dean didn’t really need to know how to administer it: all the hunting and driving had left his hands hard enough that even a light hit felt like it was flaying him. Sam grit his teeth for the first few blows, and tears smarting his eyes.

 

“You can scream if you want,” Dean murmured as he paused briefly after the fifth hit.

 

Sam nodded his acknowledgement but refused to give voice to the pain as Dean’s hands came down mercilessly upon his pinkening skin. Each blow rocked him slightly forward; sloshing the water sealed inside him and setting off a fresh round of cramps; and the next one fell before he had even recovered from them.

 

He lost count as the near constant discomfort from his sloshing insides and the agony of his roasted behind blurred into one indistinguishable throb of pain. He let out soft grunts and whimpers as fresh hits landed on his unprotected rear, in far too much pain to even open his mouth and scream. He vaguely remembered something about not screaming, but he couldn’t recollect why keeping silent had been important.

 

_Was he making noise?_

He tried to listen but he couldn’t hear anything over the wailing puppy. _Poor Puppy,_ he thought hazily. He hoped someone would go and see why the poor creature was crying and comfort it. He turned his head to see if he could see Dean and tell him about the hurt-puppy, sure his brother would be able to solve the problem; but Dean looked so worried and sad that his words dried up.

 

“C’mon, Sammy... it’s okay, you can let go now...”

 

Frowning in confusion, he looked at his hands to see if he was holding anything, but Dean’s hands were covering his and carefully prying his fingers away from something- _maybe he had touched something dirty again?_ He knew he wasn’t supposed to do that but sometimes interestingly shaped sticks and all manner of other items caught his attention and he always wanted to share his discoveries with his brother.

 

 “Dirty?” He asked, trustingly walking alongside his brother as he was led away from whatever he had been touching.

 

“Hmmm? Oh, it’s fine, I’ll clean you up.”

 

He smiled, but his stomach gurgled unpleasantly. Clutching his abdomen he peered up at his older brother, “Dee, potty!”

 

“I know, Sammy. I’ll let you go soon, okay? Just three more steps, c’mon... do it for me?”

 

It was unfair of his brother to ask that and he pouted at the request but nodded. Obediently following his brother the requisite number of steps and allowing himself to be pushed down on some sort of seat. Dean stood before him and leaned over him, fiddling at his butt and making him shuffle at the strange sensation.

 

“Okay, you can let go now, li’l brother.”

 

And Sam did.

 

He farted loudly a couple of times and the sound made him giggle, and then Dean was cleaning him up and helping him into the shower. He stood patiently while Dean washed him and wondered if he’d fallen recently when Dean’s hands soaping his behind hurt unexpectedly. He twisted to see and felt his eyes widen at the bright pink hue of his skin.

 

He threw a puzzled glance at his brother, “Owie?”

 

“Yeah, Kiddo. You got an _Ouchie_ ,” Dean’s eyes looked infinitely sad as he ruffled his hair and helped him out from under the shower; then dried him gently with a big fluffy towel.

 

Sam smiled at him- _he loved fluffy towels!_

“Here, drink this,”

 

Sam obediently opened his mouth and drank deeply from the glass held to his lips. He tried holding it himself, but his fingers felt nerveless and besides, it wasn’t as if Dean wasn’t holding it already.

 

“More?”

 

Sam considered, the water had felt good on his sore throat. He opened his mouth to say so when he was interrupted by a yawn. Dean understood him regardless, offering him another glass. When he was done, he was guided to a bed and cosily bundled in under a couple of sheets- he would have preferred a _blankie_ , but apparently that wasn’t an option at this motel.

 

“Here,”

 

He opened his mouth sleepily, accepting whatever was being held to it and smiling when he realized it was a cube of chocolate.

 

“Me goo?”

 

Gentle fingers ruffled his hair, “Yeah Sammy, you’ve been very good.”

 

He smiled and surrendered to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam awoke because his pillow was rumbling.

Trapped in that halfway state between sleep and wakefulness, the thought made him smile. He patted it sleepily, half assuming it had been a dream when he heard it again- that strange rumbling that almost sounded like a factory. Slightly more conscious, he felt his pillow again, freezing when he realized that instead of soft cotton covered foam and synthetic filling, he could feel tense muscle under the cotton cover. Eyes flying open in alarm, he jerked up; hissing when his ass throbbed the moment it came in contact with the mattress.

Strong arms halted his movement before he could move further.

“Dean?!”

“Hey, hush... it’s okay. Calm down. And lie down on your front, your butt’s is pretty bad shape.”

He obeyed without thought but peered up at his brother contemplatively. Dean looked terrible; pale and sweaty with his eyes sunken and tight with tension. “What happened?”

If anything, his question made his brother frown harder, “What do you remember?”

“We got caught. I’m your sub. You gave me an enema and those pricks forced you to spank me... what am I missing?”

“You reverted to a kid.” Dean admitted after a pause, offering him a bottle of water which he accepted gratefully.

“Kid?”

“Hmm; toddler, really.... I’d say your mental age had been somewhat less than five.”

Sam’s eyes widened, “Dude, you’re joking, right?”

Dean just stared at him.

“Dude! C’mon! Younger than five?! _Seriously?_ ” He argued. “I’m a thirty two year old adult!”

Dean just shrugged and continued regarding him silently.

Sam deflated, “Fine! Say I believe you and behaved like a kid; how can you even be so specific about my age?!”

“You trusted me, listened to me blindly-”

Sam’s eyes softened, “Dean, I do trust you. _Always_. ... You think I’d have submitted so easily to anyone else? ... And-and I know you don’t really have all that much of a choice while we’re in here, so of course I listened to you. That doesn’t prove anything!”

“You giggled when the enema made you fart.”

Sam blushed but shook his head stubbornly, “Still doesn’t prove anything.”

“And you called me Dee.”

His eyes leapt to meet Dean’s pained green gaze, heart clenching as he wondered how hard it must’ve been for Dean to hear that name after so many years and under such circumstances. “I’m sorry,”

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?!” Dean yelled, before realizing where they were and lowering his voice, “Sammy, _I_ hurt you. Why are _you_ sorry?”

“Because I know you never wanted this for me, Dean. And because I can see what it’s costing you to do this!”

“Stop acting like I’m the victim in all this!”

“But you are, Dean. We _both_ are... and yes, maybe my plight is a bit more obvious than yours what with me going around naked; but don’t think for an instant that I don’t know what this is doing to you,”

“Doing to me?” Dean repeated incredulously, “What do you think I’m getting robbed off, huh?”

“Sleep, for one.” Sam answered evenly. “Sure, you’ve been lying down with me, but I don’t think you got even a minute’s rest. And before you argue; you were awake both times I woke up, Dean. Besides, the dark rings around your eyes kind of speak for themselves, you know?”

Dean snorted, “Fine. I’ll admit to being too antsy to sleep; but I’ve been like this for hunts too. So it’s not really a big deal, you know?”

“You’re starving yourself,” Sam added instead of arguing further.

“No, I’m not!”

Sam smiled fondly at the petulant rebuttal. “Yeah? So that wasn’t your growling stomach that woke me just now?”

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Dean confessed, “And I promise I’m not starving myself, Sammy. Just haven’t had any opportunities to eat yet.”

“They fed me yesterday, you know? While I was waiting for you... and I don’t think they gave you the same respite.”

“It’s fine, Sammy.”

“Please... _For me?_ Eat something?”

“We both will,” Dean placated, “Just let me get some ointment for your butt first, okay?”

Sam nodded.

“Good boy,” Dean smiled, “So, you’ve got two options, okay? You can pick what you want to eat, but I’m going to feed you. Or you can let me pick and eat it yourself.”

“Ummm... option B, I think.”

“Up to you,” Dean agreed without rancour. “We’re going to do this every meal time, ‘kay? Same choices; you just let me know which option you want to go with.”

Sam nodded, shifting awkwardly to his side to watch as Dean went to the bars and spoke softly to one of the patrolling guards before retrieving the ointment from the open cabinet and returning to their bed.

“May I?”

Sam shuffled towards the wall in lieu of replying and rolled onto his stomach, arms folded under his head as he waited for Dean to apply the ointment. It was cool, but heated up quickly once Dean started massaging it in. “You know, I was thinking...”

Dean hummed.

“About what you said ‘bout me regressing. I- uh... I’d been thinking of our childhood; do you think that had anything to do with it?”

“Maybe? Dunno, Sammy... people all react differently to trauma.”

“Dude! You think you _traumatised_ me?!”

“Didn’t I?”

“I’m a hunter, or was at any rate. Something as simple as a spanking is not going to traumatise me!”

“What about getting betrayed by the one person you thought you could trust?”

Sam twisted around awkwardly to grab Dean’s hand where it was massaging the liniment into his skin and look him in the eye, “You have never ever betrayed me, alright? You think I’m so naive that I’m going to think you _wanted_ to hurt me? You went to _Hell_ for me, Dean. I know you’d rather cut off your own arm than hurt me.”

Dean’s eyes filled at his words and the older Winchester swiped at his eyes roughly, a watery smile playing on his lips.

“Are we good?” Sam demanded, uncertain about whether he’d convinced his brother.

“Yeah... Yeah, we’re good; Sammy.”

They smiled at each other before Dean remembered something and the smile fell off his face.

“What is it?”

“You need to be plugged all the time; the only exceptions are when you are cleaning yourself or when I’m administering the enema or you’re in use otherwise.”

Sam struggled to keep his expression impassive, “Okay, so do it.”

Before Dean could respond, the guards knocked against the bars. Sam watched from his spot on the bed as one section of the bars opened to form a small window and the guards passed in two trays covered with stainless steel cloches. Dean set them down on the lowest shelf of the cabinet which extended outwards to form a small table like structure, then went back and collected what looked like a soft fleece blanket, some more sheets and two long and two short plastic sticks. All the items were deposited on the unused top bunk; except for the blanket, which Dean folded at Sam’s feet.

“A blanket?” Sam found himself questioning.

Dean shrugged, “Well, someone wanted a _blankie_.”

He just laughed and shook his head; trust his brother to find a way to meet Sam’s needs even when they were being held prisoner.

“C’mon then, food’s here.”

“Uh... plug?”

“We’ll do it once you’re fed. Now c’mon, stuff’s getting cold.”

Sam manoeuvred himself up carefully, acutely aware of his spanked rear. There was only one chair in the cell and it was obviously not meant for him. He stood and then hesitated, unsure of himself in a way he hadn’t been for years.

“Unless a specific position has been requested, you are to kneel.”

Sam nodded and slowly lowered himself to the floor.

“No, sit back on you calves...” Dean guided with a hand to his shoulder.

Sam winced as he was forced to put more pressure on his already throbbing rear. If Dean caught his brief grimace, he didn’t comment on it; crouching in front of him to widen the gap between his knees.

“Good boy, now straighten your back... a li’l more... yes, like that. Well done, Sammy.”

He swallowed at the flash of pride at the unexpected praise, forcing a placid smile on his lips as he tried to regulate his breathing. The position felt horrifically exposing, his soft genital hanging vulnerably between his spread legs and given how his own weight was pressing his butt against his calves, the position was going to make wearing a plug extra-interesting.

“Now this position is not exactly great for your circulation, so if you feel your legs going numb, tell me, ’kay?”

Sam nodded.

“Comfortable?”

Sam debated saying yes, but ultimately shook his head.

A smile flickered at Dean’s lips, “No?”

“No, this is embarrassing!”

His brother chuckled at his remark and leaned down from where he had been circling around him to ruffle his hair. “You are supposed to be open and available for your Master, Kiddo. And your position should reflect that.”

Sam pouted but nodded his acquiescence.

“Good boy. ... Now, you chose to let me pick what you’re going to eat so that you can feed yourself. And that’s fine, but you’re not using cutlery, alright? You can use your hands... or your mouth directly. It’s up to you.”

Sam’s eyes widened at the additional condition to feed himself as he regarded the cloche covered trays nervously.

Dean brought his and set it down on the floor before him before fetching his own tray, “Classy, huh?”

He offered a wan smile and glanced to his brother for permission to remove the cloche. When Dean nodded, he cautiously uncovered his tray; hoping he wouldn’t have to eat a salad with his hands and then staring disbelievingly at what was on the plate.

“Like it?”Dean asked.

Sam nodded numbly, staring at the pizza before him: it was loaded with vegetable the way he preferred even though there were the scattered chunks of meat that his brother couldn’t do without. When Dean had told him he would have to hand-feed himself, he’d been nervous about the added humiliation, but looking at the pizza before him, he couldn’t help but sigh in relief: Dean really was looking out for him.

Brunch was a peaceful affair, and given how hungry they both were, there was not much in the way of conversation as they dug in: Sam his pizza and Dean his burger and fries. Once they were both done, Dean fetched a wet washcloth for Sam and cleaned his hands and face, collected their empty plates and stacked them for disposal and brought back a bottle of water for Sam to quench his thirst.

“Now what?”

“Now you sit tight for another few minutes while I set this up,” Dean responded, heading to the bed. He glanced back once, “Your legs not cramping, is it?”

Sam shook his head.

Dean first tied the short plastic sticks to the far ends of the bed while the longer ones were attached to the two remaining posts. Then the coiled rope was carefully wound round the sticks before one of the sheets was flung over the whole contraption. Dean proceeded to fold back the sheet ends closest to him to make an easily accessible opening. The spare pillows and cushions were piled inside cosily, then two sealed bottles of water, some chocolate and a bag of trail-mix finished the tent-like arrangement.  
“Done,”

Sam raised an eyebrow, “Done?”

“Hmm?” Dean hummed absently as he regarded the structure he had just put up before realizing and turning to face Sam who was still on the floor. “What do you think, Sammy? Looks cosy?”

“Yeah,” Sam breathed, slightly perplexed about the purpose of the ‘tent’ and vaguely thinking that Dean desperately needed kids of his own- he would make a great father.

“Okay, so that’s your safe zone, ‘clear? I’m not going to intrude in there- not unless you expressly ask me to join you. If you need anything else in there, you’re free to ask; there will be no conditions attached for anything you use or keep inside that tent. Obviously, guns or weapons of any kind are not allowed in there; nor are electronic devices... but if you think you want something in there, feel free to ask and I shall try to provide them, within reason.”

Sam nodded; his eyes wide and disbelieving.

“Now, the rules are simple; out here, you do what I tell you, when I tell you. No questions or hesitation will be entertained. ... But that tent is your domain. The rules do not apply while you’re in there. Obviously, you cannot spend all your time up there, but if you find yourself getting overwhelmed, that’s your escape route. Use it wisely.”

Sam blinked back tears at this unexpected gift, “Thank you.”

Dean smiled, leaning down to pull him into a careful hug. Then he pulled back, expression serious: “Okay, now coming to the matter of your plug.”

Sam blushed.

“Up and on the bed; on your front... Keep your legs spread.”

  
Sam cringed at the order, but obeyed; folding his arms under the pillow and resting his head on it. He felt Dean climb up behind him and tightened his grip on the pillow, determined to endure it stoically. A careful finger burrowed into his crack without warning, searching around briefly before pressing against his hole. Still tender from the enema nozzle and the plug that had held the water inside him; Sam couldn’t help but flinch as the callused finger came into contact with the rim. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, fingers tightening on the pillow as he struggled to maintain his position. “Keep going,”

Dean grunted but the pressure increased against his sore hole and he hissed in distress. Immediately, the touch disappeared. “This is not working.”

“Dean?”

“Hold on, I’ve got an idea.”

Sam nodded, bracing himself once again to be probed at one of his body’s most private spaces. Before he had even finished exhaling, gentle hands parted his nether cheeks- careful not to put pressure against the meat of them which were the sorest spots. Cold air against his most intimate opening had him shivering and then something soft and wet touched his hole tentatively. When he didn’t flinch at the contact, it lapped at the tender rim and Sam moaned at how good it felt against the stressed sphincter. Curious, he glanced over his shoulder and found Dean with his face buried against his ass. Eyes widening with realization, Sam jerked away. “ _Dean!_ ”

“Sorry, sorry... I’ll go slower, okay?”

“No!” He protested. Then, “Dean...?”

Green eyes regarded him worriedly and Sam couldn’t help himself; reaching down, he wrapped his arm around his brother’s broad shoulders and pulled him up the bed. Instantly strong arms wrapped around him protectively. “You okay, kiddo?”

“There really is absolutely _nothing_ that you wouldn’t do for me, isn’t it?” Sam murmured, reaching up himself to curve a palm over the stubble-rough cheek.

Dean’s brows furrowed questioningly.

“I mean... I know you went to Hell for me and stuff... but I was dead- dying, at the time so yeah, drastic measures. And I can even rationalize you going hungry to feed me when we were growing up; I mean it could have affected my development, so yeah. But this? I’m fine, Dean, just slightly sore, hell, I’ve had worse on hunts... but you- ... you just put your mouth down there.”

“So?”

“It’s... its disgusting, Dean! I mean you know what the actual purpose of that opening is!”

“It’s fine,” His older sibling soothed, “Besides, I cleaned you up, remember?”

Sam peered at him, “You really think that you have to do this to make up for letting me submit, don’t you?”

“No, Sam. I’m not so stupid to think that something as simple as a little rimming is going to make up for being a coward.”

“Coward?!” Sam growled, “Dude, you were tortured. For over forty years!”

Dean scoffed. “You were in the pit with the actual devil, Sammy.”

“I was, and yeah it’s not an experience I want to repeat... but my time in Hell was nothing like yours.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious.” Sam countered, “Lucifer was bad, yeah; but he didn’t hate me or torture me with the sole objective to break me... and he was lonely.”

“You’re telling me that the Devil was nothing but a clingy li’l shit?”

“He was!” Sam agreed, “And he hated you far more than he hated me... not just because you reminded him of Michael; but because you were there for me when his brother wasn’t there for him. You never abandoned me, Dean. Not even when he tried to use my body to hurt you... you just endured everything and kept trying to reach me.”

“I’m glad you had an easy time, then.” Dean muttered sarcastically.

“It wasn’t easy, and I probably know more about getting tortured than anyone else, except you. ... The things that they did to you...” He shook his head. “And you know what made it worse? It was Dad that betrayed you. They told you that he didn’t break after even a century, but they lied. They never tried to make him into a torturer. They only wanted to know more about you and he told them. He told them everything!”

“And you know all this because-?”

“Lucifer showed me. He hated you enough that he enjoyed watching what his demons had done to you when they had you.” He shrugged.

“Uhm, right.” Dean murmured, uncomfortable with the knowledge that his darkest secrets were no longer secrets. “So you know what I’m capable of...?”

Sam sighed; trust his brother to the worst of himself. “I trust you, Dean.”

“Then trust me to do this for you, Sammy. Don’t make me hurt you, please.”

Sam nodded, then leaned up to kiss his brother.  
Dean turned his face away.

“It’s okay for you to do that but it’s not okay for me to kiss you?”

“You think it’s dirty. I don’t.” Dean shrugged.

Sam’s lips turned down at corners at the lame explanation but he acquiesced, wordlessly turning over to lie on his stomach again. Dean’s tongue was as soothing on his irritated sphincter as it had been the first time and it wasn’t long before it relaxed. Cold liquid seeped around his hole next and callused but careful fingers worked him further open. The plug sank in without trouble and Sam watched as Dean cleaned up the supplies, wiped the excess lubricant which had escaped from his lax sphincter and washed his hands and mouth. He wasted no time snuggling up against the older man when he returned and this time when Sam requested a kiss, he wasn’t denied.


	7. Chapter 7

Things remained much the same in the days that followed- Dean cleaning him and helping him with his plug and then teaching him the different poses he was expected to know. It wasn’t quite what he had expected and some of the poses were absolutely humiliating, but he trusted Dean absolutely and that trust went a long way in helping him conform to what was asked of him. Over the days he got used to the feel of Dean’s hands on his body till one night he found himself actively pushing into warm fingers. He still hated the plug- small and hard as it was; but he had grown to love the feel of Dean’s thick fingers inside him, stretching him wide and filling him so perfectly.

 

It was three weeks before he got bored of the pizza and the burger and all the fried stuff which could be eaten without cutlery; longing for some fresh salad.  That day when Dean asked for his choice, he responded with ‘Option A’ and laughed when Dean just froze at the change in routine.

 

“What uhm... what would you like?”

 

“Salad...  And maybe some fries or chicken nuggets too with tartar sauce _and_ ketchup, if it’s not too much trouble,”

 

A smile lurked at the corners of Dean’s lips but the older man folded his arm across his chest. “Do it properly, Sammy.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You didn’t use the magic word,” Dean filled in.

 

Sam blushed. _He had always been the polite one compared to his brother, so having Dean make a remark on his manners stung. Besides, politeness was something both siblings bestowed on outsiders, never a please or thank-you exchanged between them, always assuming it to be their right._

 

“I thought... I thought we didn’t have to be _polite_ to each other.”

 

“And we don’t,” Dean agreed instantly. “Whatever little I do for you, it’s because I care... and I don’t need any thanks for that. But within these four walls, I’m not just your brother, Sammy. I’m your _Master_ too. And you are expected to be unfailingly polite to your _master_.”

 

Sam nodded.

 

“So, what’ll it be, Kiddo?”

 

“Salad, _please_...  And maybe some fries or chicken nuggets too with tartar sauce _and_ ketchup, if it’s not too much trouble,”

 

“Good boy, got it in one!” Dean grinned, ruffling his hair as he walked by and headed to the bars to pass on their choices to the guard who had arrived to take their orders.

 

Allowing himself to be hand-fed by his brother was surprisingly easy and he wondered if old sense memory of being fed like this by the older man throughout his childhood had anything to do with how laughably easy it was for him to relinquish control.

 

“Maybe you should use your fingers,” Sam suggested when a forked French fry dipped in the tartar sauce _and_ ketchup was held up to his lips.

 

“You want me to _hand feed_ you salad?” Dean asked blandly, squinting down at him like he was beginning to doubt whether Sam had all his screws intact.

 

“I was talking about the fries and nuggets, but if you want to try with the salad as well,” He shrugged. “Messy.”

 

Dean shot a glare at him for the teasing but the next fry was not skewered on his fork, held out delicately between his thumb and forefinger. Sam accepted it carefully, taking care to brush his lips against Dean’s fingers and grinned when Dean blushed a bright scarlet as his lips sucked suggestively on his finger. It made Sam laugh- Dean had been the one to give him the ‘ _talk’;_ and as a teenager, Dean had loved to embarrass him with detailed tales of his _sexcapades_... Now, Sam found himself wondering just how much of those tales had been truth and how much embellishment just for the sake of mortifying him. He knew Dean didn’t really have any hang-ups about ‘sex’ itself- at least he hadn’t until Hell; it was the part that he was supposed to sexually ‘use’ his little brother that was giving the older Winchester pause. Besides, having accidentally walked in a few times too many while his brother was otherwise engaged; Sam knew that between the two of them, Dean was the gentle and more-vanilla lover... _Okay, maybe not ‘vanilla’ vanilla; Dean was experimental and would not refuse any act without giving it a try, but he was forever more concerned about his partners’ enjoyment of the situation than his own... it used to bother Sam at first, just ‘how much’ of himself Dean squandered away to people he would never possibly meet again, but with age he had come to realize that it was more about Dean being a natural born ‘caregiver’ than anything else; his brother would always prefer to be the one caring than the one cared for_. It was just as well that his brother didn’t know that Sam actually _enjoyed_ a bit of roughness- and while blood-drinking was not his normal game; he sure hadn’t minded the rest of the rough stuff with Ruby. Watching him turn tomato-coloured just from Sam licking his fingers now, the younger brother could only think that Dean wouldn’t have ever teased him if he had actually witnessed Sam with his partners... His brother had always assumed he got irritated by his teasing because it embarrassed him, never suspecting that Sam was annoyed because the opposite was true. And while he had always managed to rein his irritation in and not give Dean an eye-opening _show_ about his preferences because he was well aware that Dean’s teasing was just that- _brotherly teasing_ ; he now felt sorry for the older man. It wasn’t that Dean wasn’t experienced himself or that he abhorred the tasks asked of him, _no;_ problem was that Sam had always been a _pure_ , _nearly virginal_ soul in his brother’s eye- _something, that in reality he had last been when he’d just been a child_... and it was hurting Dean incomprehensibly to have to _tarnish_ that purity by his own hand. Sam wished he could reassure him that nothing Dean did was unwelcome, but he knew that simple words would never convince the older Winchester even if he repeated them hundred times a day. He would have to _show_ Dean to convince him, and the best way to achieve that was by making sure that their brotherhood remained unchanged. Thus, he strove to play the bratty younger sibling even in the most _sexual_ situations, praying that Dean would eventually understand that it was okay and nothing that happened here would affect their bond.

 

Two days into his plan and Sam knew that for whatever reason, Dean was freaking out even worse than before. Their new-found intimacy had been one of the things he actually liked about their new situation and he could only hope that Dean would trust him enough to bare his fears. He waited till they were in bed and then rolled closer to Dean- not that there was far to roll, the bed barely wide enough to fit the two of them side by side. Dean held still, allowing Sam to curl against his chest and his left arm twining around the younger Winchester’s narrow waist to anchor him. Sam rubbed his hips restlessly against the worn but still not-quite-soft material of Dean’s outfit, freezing when the older man pulled him further on top and a large warm palm came to rest over the curve of his butt. He had grown used to the feel of Dean’s hands on him, even learnt to enjoy the stretching slightly when Dean prepared him to receive his plug; but this was new- he was already plugged for the night and Dean never usually played with him after it was done.

 

“How do you do it, Sammy?” Dean breathed, fingers absently beginning to rub comforting circles on his bare skin.

 

“Do what?”

 

“Accept this. God, I’m fighting every single minute and I’m not even the one anything is being _done to._ You make it look like it’s a walk in the park to go around naked and obey someone else. _”_

It was on the tip of his tongue to answer with a teasing remark, but then Sam caught sight of Dean’s expression. “It’s not easy,” He confided.

 

Dean’s eyes flew to meet his at the confession.

 

“It’s not easy,” Sam repeated, before elaborating. “But what other choice do I have, Dean? I can whine and kick up a fuss about every little thing... but that won’t save me from any of it... it’ll only earn me further punishment... _Or I can learn to accept it._ _Accept it and try to make the best of it._ ”

 

“I’m sorry,” Dean croaked.

 

“Hey! It’s not your fault Dean. ...and part of what makes it possible for me to accept any of this is _you._ I _know_ – I know beyond a shadow of doubt that you’re my brother first and foremost and that you have my best interests at heart. Sure, there are uncomfortable and unpleasant things, but I _trust_ you, Dean. You think I would’ve submitted to anyone other than you? And before you get the wrong idea, _no..._ No, I wouldn’t have... and even now, if you think you can share me with others, you’ll find yourself with a fight on your hands; but I _know_ you won’t do that to me. It’s plain how much it’s hurting you to do what’s demanded of you, and I know you would swap places with me in a heartbeat if you could. And I promise, that- _that knowledge?_ It helps. It helps so much.”

 

 

It was another week of being hand fed by his brother and practising the different poses he was expected to know before he found Dean looking at him strangely.

 

“What?” He demanded, hands coming down automatically from where they were crossed behind his head to shield his body from view.

 

“Sshh, no. C’mon now, don’t do that... you don’t want a punishment do you?” Dean whispered, striding to him and halting his hands mid descent.

 

Sam blushed a bright scarlet but brought his hands up again with his fingers crossing each other as he stood facing the man who was now his legal owner. His legs were shoulder width apart, leaving nothing to imagination and his body clenched unconsciously on the butt-plug sealing his rear as he watched his brother scrutinize him.

 

A warm hand flattened itself against his chest, fingers splayed wide as they registered the drum of his heartbeat and then slid lower, grazing his pebbled nipples and ghosting down his upper abdomen to cup at the soft curve below his navel. “You’re losing definition.”

 

Sam felt his face heat. It was something he had noticed awhile back- back in regular life, the hunt and his own morning exercise routine had kept his muscles sharp and defined...not to mention the irregular food habits that both he and Dean had developed from growing up with limited money and two teenaged stomachs which demanded to be fed had ensured that they had never had the fat-padding that most children grow up with. True, Dean had eaten even less than him when they had been younger- forever content to go hungry as long as Sam was fed; but once Sam had matured enough to master his body and keep from asking to be fed whenever he got hungry; they had shared whatever little rations they possessed. Here however, the nutritious food three times a day – and a mostly sedentary life with his entire day spent mastering different ways to be still had him losing his hard-earned muscle.  Weeks before Dean had noticed the change Sam had tried portioning his food-intake the first time he had realized that he was losing the definition to his muscles, but the guards ensured that they cleaned their plates: No comments were made when the plates were retrieved, but the uniformed men had returned a few minutes later and to his horror, Sam realized that they had made a mash of whatever he’d left on the plate in the interim. They stormed inside and force fed the mash to him, first just forcing his mouth open and spooning it in, and then- _when he’s begun to choke,_ forcing a tube down his throat and diluting the mash further before pumping it to his stomach. Dean’s attempts at intervention had been overlooked completely and Sam had never attempted to pull that stunt again.

 

“C’mere,” Dean murmured, sitting on the room’s lone chair and beckoning him.

 

Sam blushed as he stepped between the spread of Dean’s knees, hands still folded behind his head. He felt Dean’s hand press gently against his developing paunch and clenched his eyes shut in shame. When Dean did nothing but stroke the soft skin for long minutes, Sam cautiously opened his eyes; risking a glance downwards even though he knew Dean’s face would be twisted in disgust and contemplation. Which was why it took him back to see the fondness on his brother’s face, “What?”

 

“It’s been so long since you had any padding at all,” Dean murmured. The older brother glanced up briefly to meet his eyes, “You were such a cuddly baby... but then you lost that adorable roundness to your cheeks so soon... always felt guilty about not feeding you enough. You were fussy and never liked your bottle and I was too stupid to realize that I needed to insist.”

 

“Dean!” Sam blurted, hating how Dean shouldered blame for the most innocuous things. “You were four, how on earth were you supposed to know?!”

 

Dean swallowed, but he nodded his understanding. Then he met Sam’s eyes again, “Do you want to get back in shape again?”

 

“I-... I get a choice?” Sam asked incredulously.

 

“Of course you do,” Dean returned, “It’s your body!”

 

“But-... but you _own_ me now, Dean. _Literally,_ ”

 

Dean just raised an eyebrow.

 

And Sam deflated, “I’m sorry. You’re right. You’ve never treated me like property... it’s just. ... I know you’ve been going easy on me, Dean. And I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

 

“It’s your choice, li’l brother.” Dean answered, evading his unasked question; uncomfortable as always with emotional displays.

 

Sam smiled, “I’d like to get back in shape. ... unless... you have a belly kink?”

 

Dean shook his head, “I don’t.”

 

And that was how Sam found himself escorted to the enclosed track-field in the Training centre’s campus.

 

“You have thirty minutes. Go wild.” Dean told him, carefully easing out the plug and pushing Sam away with a friendly squeeze of his butt.

 

Sam stepped away obediently and then froze: with the plug gone, he felt _empty._ He was uncomfortably aware of the feel of the air against his exposed insides. He tried to clench, but it felt _wrong_ now to clench around nothing. His gait was off and it took Dean tapping against the invisible watch on his wrist to start a slow circle of the track. He went to his brother after two laps around the circular circuit.

 

“I need the plug.”

 

“No,”

 

“Dean, please.”

 

“It’s a bad idea, Sammy.”

 

“Please,”

 

“Fine, but if you are wrong, I’m punishing you.”

 

Sure it couldn’t be worse than the feel of the cold air on his gaping hole, Sam agreed. His older brother sighed and then pushed the hard silicone plug back in with one smooth shove. ... Sam returned to the track, starting another lap...and winced.   _He had been wrong._

He stood trembling before his brother, the skin of his hole feeling tender and swollen from where the plug and rubbed unforgivingly against it during his lap. “I can’t... you were right.”

 

Dean snorted mirthlessly, “Told you.”

 

“I know; I’m sorry.”

 

Dean nodded.

 

“You... you’d said you’d be punishing me?” Sam reminded hesitantly, wondering if it was a test.

 

“Hmm,”

 

“Well?”

 

“Get back on the track,”

 

“What?”

 

 “That’s it; you continue with your exercise...The plug stays.”

 

“Dean!” He whined.

 

His brother shook his head and glanced at his watch. “I _told you it was a bad idea._ You don’t listen. ... Well, guess what? We’re doing this your way- _with the plug._ You have ten more minutes left. I want to see you work out.”

 

Sam swallowed, hesitating when he caught the _clue._

“I don’t have to run laps?”

 

“It’s your choice. I just want you sweaty and exhausted at the end of ten minutes.”

 

He nodded, setting off again. But instead of running another lap, this time he just jogged a few paces away and started with the first set of free-hand exercises their father had taught them when they were kids. He had just managed to go through two sets of all the upper-body exercises he knew when his ten minutes were up.

 

“Dean... thirty minutes is not enough... can- can you increase my time?” Sam asked as he was hosed down.

 

“You have to wear the plug for fifteen minutes for ever hour of exercise. So forty-five minutes without the plug and fifteen with it on.”

 

“Done,”

 

“You want to start with one hour and work your way up gradually?”

 

“Yes, please.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Sam hesitated as he was wiped down.

 

“What?”

 

“We’re going back now?”

 

“No, we start tomorrow.”

 

“Okay. Thanks.”

 

Dean nodded. And true to his word, Dean took him back to the exercise pit the next day, acting as his trainer as he guided Sam through his sets and then, once the plug had been removed, joined him on the track. It felt like old times- running beside his brother without anything chasing them and Sam found himself in high spirits by the time the hour ended. Belly full of salad just the way he liked it (fresh and crunchy with a generous dollop of mayo and a succulent piece of grilled chicken to accompany it) and high on endorphins from his hour of vigorous work-out with the feeling of safety from having his brother by his side with nothing trying to kill them for once; Sam found himself succumbing to sleep easily that night- the regimented life positively impacting his insomnia.

 

He was not surprised to wake with a morning chub the next morning. ... Was it embarrassing? _Sure!_ But was it something he was worried about? _No._ Even though he hadn’t been told not to in so many words, Sam knew better than to try and find some relief for himself... Face flushing from the awkwardness of the situation, he nudged his brother awake.

 

Dean opened his eyes lazily, leaning forward to sleepily grab a kiss as had become a norm for the past few days- ever since he’ demanded that kiss the first night. It wasn’t something Sam worried much about; besides, it wasn’t like Dean kissed him through the day... maybe a chaste peck or two on his forehead when he mastered a pose, but otherwise kisses were limited to the wee hours or late in the night when it was just the two of them.

 

Sam rocked forward delicately as he pressed his lips to Dean’s, hoping his older brother would get the hint- after all, Dean had been the one to give him ‘the talk’ back in their teens. ... And he had been the one to show him the ropes, so to speak. So while it was awkward, it wasn’t anything that should have frozen Dean the way it did. ... Dean stared at him for a moment before pressing impossibly close, an expression of unadulterated panic on his face.

 

“Hey, c’mon wh-?”

 

“Shut up,” The older Winchester hissed. “Shut up and think of whatever unpleasantness you need to get _that_ down.”

 

“What?”

 

“Control your body, Sam.” He growled.

 

Taken aback, he obeyed. Dean didn’t explain any further and Sam didn’t press... by the end of the day he had managed to even forget about the morning’s strangeness. He remembered it the next day when he woke once again to find himself humping Dean’s hip. Once more his brother grabbed and stilled him, staring at him meaningfully till he got himself under control. This went on for three more days. And then Dean got him a slice of chocolate cake with dinner as a reward for losing half a pound since starting his exercise regimen. It was soft and creamy and sinfully decadent... and biting into it as Dean held it to his lips made him chub up unconsciously.

 

Dean froze when he noticed; face morphing into a heartbreaking expression.

 

Sam frowned, concern for his brother’s well-being spiking, “Dean, what? What’s wrong?”

 

“I tried to protect you from this as long as I could, Sammy...”

 

“From what?” He asked, puzzled.

 

The response, when it came, was ominous: “The next part of your training...”


	8. Chapter 8

Sam blinked in confusion, opening his mouth on autopilot to bite into the cake-slice as Dean held it to his lips as he tried to formulate a response to Dean’s ominous warning about them starting the next part of their training.

 

“What- What does it involve?” He murmured when he finished swallowing.

 

“Your training?” Dean asked as he offered Sam another bite, waiting for him to close his lips around the last of the cake and nod before talking. “It’s... it’s the sexual side of it.”

 

Sam grimaced slightly, but then struggled to smooth out his expression in an attempt to _not_ alarm his brother.

 

Dean just smiled wryly, not having missed his fleeting expression, “Yeah, I know. Why do you think I was dithering over you mastering the poses?”

 

Sam smiled as he chewed. “It’s okay,” He managed to mumble through his full mouth.

 

“It really isn’t,” Dean argued. “But there’s nothing we can do about it. So, yeah...” He held up his chocolate smeared fingers to Sam’s lips with a shrug, smiling indulgently as the younger boy cleaned his hand with kitten-licks.

 

Once Sam was done eating, Dean left to grab tissues and wet wipes to clean him up; then guided him to the centre of the room and left him briefly to retrieve something from the cabinet.

“Hands behind your head, legs apart.”

 

Sam felt himself blush as he was hit by a dizzying rush of arousal at the command in the other’s voice, struggling to maintain position when Dean was standing in front of him and scrutinising like this. He jumped as his brother smoothly went to his knees before him, reaching out with a firm hand to cup his ankles.

“Steady,”

 

He hissed out a breath which sounded loud in the confines of the room and steeling his nerves, nodded nervously.

 

“Sshhh... it’s okay, I’ve got you.” Dean whispered; his hands still and unmoving as they rested on the slight dip at Sam’s ankles. His thumbs started moving in slow circles over the protruding ridge of his ankle-bones as Dean waited. “It’s okay... take all the time you need. You’re okay... you’re okay. I’ve got you.”

 

Sam’s breath shuddered out of him in a trembling exhale, the skin where Dean’s fingers were touching him feeling hyper-sensitive... it wasn’t a particularly sexual part of his body- and he hadn’t _ever_ thought that _that_ small region would have so many nerve endings! He risked a glance downwards and saw his brother looking up at him, eyes moist and a sad smile playing at his lips. Realizing he was making things unnecessarily difficult, he allowed himself two more breaths before nodding. “I’m ready. ... and-... and I trust you, Dean.”

 

“Good boy.”

 

Sam closed his eyes again as he felt Dean’s hands finally – _finally-_ begin to move. They curved up to the hollow behind his knees, the pressure firm enough that it wasn’t _quite_ tickling, but given he was a hair’s breathe from collapsing bonelessly from how hyper-aware he was, every touch felt more than what it was.

 

“Open your eyes, baby boy...” Dean murmured.

 

Sam swallowed nervously before obeying, peering down to see what his brother was doing.

 

“No, Sammy. Look up. Eyes straight ahead, alright?”

 

He nodded, shivering as he forced himself to look straight ahead with unseeing eyes towards the bars of their cell. Dean fingers massaged gently at the soft underside of his knees before sliding down his calves and rotating. They slid up his legs from the front this time, going back up to his knees and then curling around to grab firmly at their underside again. There was a slight increase in pressure and Sam realized that Dean wanted him to widen his stance. Breathing through his nerves, Sam obeyed.

 

“Sshhh.... easy,” Dean soothed. “Easy does it...”

 

Unfortunately, the calming words had the opposite effect when Sam felt the warm exhale from his speech and suddenly realized just which parts of him were closest to Dean’s face now that his legs were spread. He let out a soft whimper.

 

“Hey-hey-hey... Don’t panic!” Dean snapped out, jumping to his feet to catch him around the shoulders.  “It’s just me, okay? Just me. ... And I know that’s not really a comforting thought at the moment, but I promise you- _I promise you, alright? -_ I’m not going to hurt you.” He shook the younger man carefully, positioning himself so that Sam was forced to meet his eyes, “Will it be pleasant? No, I don’t think so... but I’m going to take care of you, okay? Make sure you’re not hurt.”

 

“I know, I trust you.” Sam repeated.

 

Dean snorted, “Yeah, I _really_ don’t think so. But that’s alright- I wouldn’t trust me either. ... Just... bear with me, please?”

 

Sam licked his lips before he spoke, “Can- can I make a request?”

 

“Yeah, sure... I mean... of course!”

 

“Just do it? Please?”

 

Dean stared at him blankly, “What?”

 

“Whatever it is that you’re going to do? Just get it over with? I mean this-this-this _anticipation_ is killing me, man.”

 

Dean cracked a smile at that and then nodded, sinking back down to his knees without another word and making him jump as callused hands cupped him.

 

“Dean!”

 

“What? You were the one to tell me just to get on with it!” The older Winchester held up his hands in a ‘ _what do you want me to do’_ gesture.

 

Sam let out a shuddering laugh and nodded, steeling himself to getting _touched_ again. Dean’s hands were cool against his blood-warm length and Sam allowed an uncontrolled shiver to roll through him at the sensation before reining himself in.

 

“Okay?”

 

“Umm, yeah.” He croaked, wishing Dean would _do_ something instead of just kneel before him cradling his dick.

 

Instead of moving his hands as Sam had expected, Dean’s fingers moved down to gently heft his hairless balls. Sam let out a whimper, knees automatically drawing together protectively.

 

Dean shouldered his way forward, stopping the movement and gently squeezed the nuts in a wordless warning to hold his pose, “When was the last time you emptied these, dude?”

 

“I-I...” Sam blubbered, tears stinging behind his eyes as he struggled to hold onto his composure. “I-I don’t remember?”

 

“You haven’t since coming in here,” Dean mused, “And we were living out of the impala for a week before they caught us... so it had to be before then, right?”

 

Sam nodded with a shaky sob. “Y-Yes,”

 

Dean frowned, letting out a loud exhale of frustration.

 

“Wh-what?”

 

“You are supposed to learn that you don’t control anything about your body, Sammy... not even your erections.”

 

Sam nodded.

 

“And you need my permission to ... well, for everything, really.”

 

“I know.”

 

Dean looked up and met his eyes with a determined stare, “Yeah... so before we lock li’l Sammy away, I think you deserve one last taste of pleasure. What do you think?”

 

Sam could only stare back slack-jawed.

 

Dean shot him a brief smirk and then took him in his mouth. The warm, welcome heat after the weeks of denial had Sam losing control laughably easily.  He was still riding the high of endorphins when he felt himself being moved. Trusting his brother to take care of him, Sam allowed himself to be manoeuvred as desired. Something cold touched his sensitive genitals and then there was a loud click which had his eyes snapping open. He glanced down to himself encased in transparent plastic.

 

“Okay?”

 

He touched himself gingerly, feeling the smoothness of the plastic trapping him and nodded uncertainly.

 

“Does it hurt?” Dean asked, sitting between his spread legs on his haunches.

 

Sam shook his head.

 

“No, walk around a bit. Then tell me.”

 

Sam obediently got to his feet from where he was sprawled on the room’s lone chair and paced the cell twice.

 

“Well?”

 

“It’s... it’s weird... but it doesn’t hurt. Not really.”

 

“Good, that’s good.” Dean murmured, mostly to himself. “Okay, we are done for the day. You can head to bed if you want.”

 

Sam watched as Dean headed to the ‘bathroom’ and washed his hands and rinsed his mouth, first brushing his teeth and then gargling with the mouth-wash. It reminded him of the time Gabriel had trapped them in the time loop and he had to force himself away from thinking about all the ways Dean had died in those days. “Uh... I-I have a question?”

 

“Of course, shoot.” Dean responded. Of course it sounded way more garbled than that with his mouth full of water, but Sam was versed well enough in Dean speak to translate without trouble.

 

“You... It’s been almost the same time as me since you’ve had any relief too, Dean...”

 

“And your question is...?” His brother demanded as he emerged from the bathing section.

 

“Well, you’ve not been popping wood the way I was... I just... is everything okay with you?”

 

“Well, I can’t exactly tend to myself either, Sammy. You need to be the one to bring me relief... So,” He shrugged.

 

Sam raised an eyebrow.

 

“What? You want me to spell it out for you?” Dean demanded mulishly. “Fine! I’m a bastard, Sammy... I don’t deny that. But even I draw a line at rape!”

 

Sam inhaled sharply at the vitriol spilling from his brother’s lips, staring wide-eyed as Dean continued.

“So yeah... That knowledge kind of killed my boners before they got anywhere. Happy?”

 

Sam felt faint at the revelation... he had known Dean was feeling guilty- _hell, his brother’s sense of responsibility could power a small country-_ and he could tell Dean he consented till he was blue in the face, but knew that his bother would never understand. ... But that wasn’t what shook him.

 

He had thought that Dean had trusted him for once, allowing Sam to take responsibility for once... but was only then realizing that he’d been played. Thing was, he’d thought like a regular person... thought that for once Dean had let him in on his fears and take the hard choice away from him- what he’d forgotten was that Dean never played by everybody’s rules... that he would always find a way to play the martyr, protecting Sam to the end.

 

Dean had made sure he never took the kill-shot on werewolf hunts till he returned from Stanford- Madison had been the first one he’d actually shot himself, in fact. It had rankled with Sam when he’d been younger, but it was only years later that he’d realized that Dean had done it not because he wanted to brag about having more kills, but because werewolves tend to return to their human forms once killed- _and Dean hadn’t wanted that on his brother’s conscience._ Any other creature, he had no problems letting Sam kill, but not werewolves- not until Madison. ... Sam cursed himself for forgetting that. ... because Dean had played up his experiences in Hell perfectly. And Sam, caught up in the euphoric rush of _protecting his brother_ , had forgotten to look behind the illusion: Sure, Dean suffered from fairly severe PTSD from his trip downstairs. But he never shied away from violence because of it. Why would he shy away from sex, then? The reduction in his number of conquests might have nothing to do with Hell, and everything to do maturity... But Sam had fallen for the lie hook, line and sinker. And Dean had continued the charade... acting guilt-stricken (and yeah, maybe it hadn’t all been an act...) and apologetic but leading Sam to what was _, in his eyes_ , the easier ‘role’... the role of the victim and not the _abuser- not the-... the rapist._

 

Sam shuddered at the word even as he thought of it...He felt like screaming as he connected the dots to form a picture that was starkly different to the one he’d foolishly let himself think of as reality. _And here he’d been naively congratulating himself on protecting Dean for once!_

 

“Sammy?”

 

“What?!” He snapped, his irritation with himself coming out as anger.

 

“uh...are- are you okay? You’ve gone all... _quiet._ ”

 

“What do you think?” He growled, then before Dean could respond continued, “I just... I feel so _betrayed_ , Dean!”

 

“You can go to your safe zone, if you wan-”

 

“I _don’t_ want to go to my safe zone!”

 

Dean raised his hands placatingly. “Okay... okay... whatever you want, alright? No pressure. Want me to take the floor, tonight?”

 

“No!” He grabbed the older man tightly, refusing to let go.

 

“Okay, okay...” Dean soothed, “It’s cool... whatever you want, Sammy. Way to let me know, by the way,” He chuckled nervously, but didn’t fight his sibling’s hold, “It’s okay... Hush... it’s okay, you’re safe.”

 

“Shut up. ... Just-” _He let out a soft sob as he wrapped his arms like an octopus around his brother and tightened his hold_ \- “Just shut up, alright? I **_know_** _I’m safe._ I _trust you, Dean._ I do. ... I don’t know how to convince you of it, but I trust you, okay? And I’m consenting. _To ALL of it._ Every _fucking_ bit. You’re not forcing me, big brother. You aren’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking of putting up chapters to my on-going fics for Christmas... but then realized that none of the chapter updates are particularly Christmas-y.   
> _This_ fic is one of the happiest at the moment (I mean emotionally, at least.)  
> *Facepalm*
> 
> Happy Holidays, folks.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small-ish update for now... [and a hint of what's to come ;-) ]

Sam’s eyes felt crusty when he awoke the next day and Sam realized he’d fallen asleep clinging to Dean. His brother was wrapped protectively around him, his body a shield made of blood and bone and sinew that sheltered Sam’s taller but leaner form. He pushed lightly and smiled fondly when Dean rolled away, still fast asleep. The arm that cradled Sam moved with him, tugging at Sam and he went willingly, unwilling to wake the other man by being stubborn. Sprawled over the elder’s chest, Sam regarded the older man contemplatively; marvelling t how innocent he looked with all his cares wiped in sleep. It wasn’t often that Dean got a restful sleep, he knew; barely managing to catch a few hours on most days. And sometimes nightmares encroached on even those precious few hours.

 

He smiled sadly and snuggled closer, gratified when Dean’s hold tightened over his waist. Impulse had him pressing a quick kiss over the thin skin stretched over the man’s sternum before he settled for a few more hours of dozing.

 

The next time he woke, he knew Dean was already awake by the comforting feel of protective runes being traced carefully into his back with a gun-callused finger. It was something Dean had started doing in an effort to calm Sam soon after he had discovered their father’s diary and the truth about what lay in the dark. Once he’d discovered the secret, John Winchester had seen no need to continue with the charade and started Dean’s training in the earnest. His brother had apparently begun training soon after the fire, but his age and John’s need to keep the truth from his impressionable youngest meant that he had had to think up excuses to take Dean away from his brother for training, which meant short spells only since Sam could only be distracted for so long when Dean wasn’t right there with him. Once the truth was revealed though, John openly dragged Dean away for ‘training’ and left Sam alone to fend for himself for hours on end. Sure, he was still ‘a kid’ in his brother’s eyes (and most likely in their father’s too, but _Dean_ was the one who wanted Sam protected and not involved in the ‘hunt’) and that meant Dean would only agree to so many hours away from him. So John left him with things he could do while Sam was near... and one of those things was learning runes. Sam still remembered the wild storm that had frightened him enough to seek shelter in his brother’s bed and when Dean had run out of paper, Sam had refused to allow him to leave the bed to fetch more. Eventually Dean had given up, using Sam’s back as his ‘board’ while he traced invisible markings of protection. Somehow it had developed into a ‘thing’ between them; whenever Sam was unable to sleep, Dean would pull him into his own bed and trace runes on his back till the familiar patterns lulled the younger sibling into peaceful dreams. As embarrassing as it was, it was something that had survived their four years of estrangement during Sam’s stint at Stanford and had come especially handy when Azazel’s visions kept Sam awake. To find that Dean slipped back into that old habit made Sam smile fondly as he rubbed his nose against the flannel covered body he was lying upon.

 

“Hey,”

 

“Mmmm, good morning,” He whispered back.

 

“How’re you feeling?” Dean wanted to know. “You cried yourself to sleep, last night.”

 

Sam shrugged tiredly- he was not ready to get into an argument so early in the day... after all, he could scream and shout and pout to his heart’s content, but thirty two years had not changed Dean’s habit of putting Sam’s welfare above his own and while he had been hopeful that something had finally come along to change the habits of a lifetime, he had discovered the truth yesterday and had lost all hope of ever successfully changing the pattern.

 

“Can we do something different today?”

 

Dean’s hand stilled for a moment before resuming their caress. “What do you have in mind?”

 

“Don’t want to get up. Can we stay in bed? Just for today, please?”

 

“We can’t just lie in.” Dean returned, his tone defeated and Sam knew he had to speak quickly before Dean started berating himself for not being able to allow ‘ _even this’._ ”

 

“Of course not, that would be absurd.” He agreed, “I was just thinking... maybe we could start with some of my... uh ... sexual training?”

 

If Dean’s eyes widened anymore than they already had, Sam was afraid his eye balls would fall clean off his face.

 

“What?” The word was barely above a breath.

 

“Hey... it’s fine... I-I’m offering, Dean.”

 

“Offering _what,_ exactly?

 

“uh...a blowjob?” Sam returned. “I mean... you blew me yesterday... and it- it didn’t exactly look very difficult.”

 

“What if you don’t like it?”

 

“Then I don’t like it,” Sam shrugged easily. “It’ll be a useful skill to have... I mean, I don’t like cross-bow hunting, but I still know how to do it and it _has_ been useful on occasion.”

 

“Really? It’ll be _useful..._ that’s the argument you’re going with?”

 

“Dean, I mean c’mon... it’s not a big deal, okay? Let’s just- let’s just do it. Please?”

 

“No, I want to know just _how_ you think this is going to be _useful!”_

Sam looked down, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes as he whispered, “I _know_ you’re not Dad, Dean. I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry. Let this go, please?”

 

Green eyes widened impossibly at the implication of that statement, “You knew?”

 

“I followed you once,” Sam shrugged.

 

“It wasn’t Dad’s fault.”

 

Sam glared, “He left us for a month with forty dollars when the room rent was ten dollars a week. You were not allowed to leave me unsupervised long enough to work jobs or talk your way into a bar. He had to have known what he was forcing you into, Dean. He may not have _ordered_ you to do it, but he sure as hell was not that _naive..._ and yeah, _maybe_ he expected you to speak up the first time it happened... but he should have pressed you when you didn’t. And he sure as hell shouldn’t have taken it as a sign that he could do it every time after that!”

 

Dean shook his head, “He taught us to utilize every resource at our disposal, Sammy. I don’t regret it.”

 

“I know you don’t,” Sam nodded, snuggling back into his big brother’s arms. “And I’m glad for it. But he still shouldn’t have done it, Dean. Besides, you never asked me to use the same _resource_.”

 

“Can’t win an argument against you, can I?” Dean sighed.

 

“Nope,” Sam grinned mischievously, “Now teach me!”


	10. Chapter 10

Sam sat back on his haunches as he watched Dean regard him contemplatively, keen eyes trying to determine if Sam was actually interested or if he was just doing it to make things easier for him. He was _still_ debating Sam’s motivations if the furrow between his brows was any indicator when the younger Winchester slipped stealthy fingers under the hem of his shirt and curled his fingers into the waistband of Dean’s drawstring pants. Sam jumped when Dean’s hands clamped down upon his, preventing him from doing anything more but not allowing him to retract his hand either.

 

“Dean?”

 

“You are supposed to ask permission first,”

 

“What?”San breathed, taken aback.

 

“ _Permission,_ to touch me.” Dean elaborated, “Now ask me, Sammy.”

 

Sam shook his head, pulling back enough that he could sit cross-legged next to his brother.

 

“It’s part of how things are supposed to be, Samuel.”Dean explained.

 

Sam flinched at the use of his full name, knowing that Dean was serious about this.

 

“You are not allowed to touch me without permission, _especially not sexually_. Any touch that I grant is supposed to be a reward...a- a treat.”

 

“Oh,”

 

“So go on... convince me.”Dean invited. “Tell me why you think you should be allowed to nurse my cock... What have you done to _deserve_ it?”

 

Sam felt his cheeks flame in understanding but nodded his acceptance. Still, using the honorific stuck in his throat and he needed two attempts to get the word out: “Please... mas-master, I’ll be so good for you, make you feel so good. Please... let- let me touch your cock?”

 

“You’re going to use your hands?”Dean asked.

 

Sam blushed brighter at the prompting, “No, ma-master... gonna use my mouth. My wide, s-slu-slutty mouth.”

 

Dean’s eyes became incredibly sad but Dean didn’t look away from him, “I’m concerned about those teeth of yours, Kiddo.”

 

“I’ll be careful, Dee”

 

Dean’s brows hit his hairline at use of a name Sam had stopped calling him by at the age of four and Sam instantly realized his error when a silent tear escaped his brother’s eye and trailed down to the hair at his temple. He watched as the man swallowed wordlessly once before nodding, “Okay, go on. Take off my pants.”

 

Sam he bit his lip and reached out hesitantly towards the drawstring of Dean’s trousers again. His fingers accidentally touched his brother’s stomach and Sam winced at how cold his fingers were in comparison to the warmth of Dean’s skin. He risked a glance at his brother’s face and felt his heart break at the carefully placid mask Dean was sporting. “Please don’t,” He murmured as he curled his fingers against that warm strip of skin, “Don’t shut me out, Dean. _Please...”_

Dean smile was pained as he closed his eyes in acknowledgement and Sam watched in amazement as the ‘mask’ came off- even though there was no tangible ‘armour’, it was literally like getting his first glimpse of his brother’s face which had been hidden behind a unemotional visage all this time. His brother trembled once, and Sam looked down to see goosebumps break out over the bared skin of his lower abdomen. Dean had a dusky track of reddish gold hair trailing down from his navel and into his pants, and Sam absently rubbed his finger through the fine hair of his brother’s ‘treasure trail’. When Dean didn’t protest, Sam inched the waistband of the trousers lower still and froze at the sight of a black leather band. Curious, he hastily pulled the warm flannel down till he could see the leather band encircling his brother’s slim hips. There was a stainless steel circle embedded in it’s front centre, perfectly aligned below his navel and Sam could see another leather loop trailing down from it. He glanced up hesitantly at his brother but Dean merely lifted a brow, “Go on,”

 

Uncomfortable, Sam scooted back slightly and pulled down Dean’s pants, pausing when they refused to move because they were weighed down by his hips but his brother helpfully lifted to allow him to lower them and then Dean was lying there in only his flannel shirt. Sam risked a glance upwards again and saw Dean lying with his hands above his head and linked through the bars of the headboard. He had apparently pushed another pillow under his head because it was raised slightly- enough for him to see what Sam was doing. The shirt was rucked up from his movement, now lying scrunched just under his chest and Sam could see the sharp outline of his ribs from where they were pressing against the thin skin of his chest. Dean had always been compactly muscled, but he was more slender than Sam himself and now, the stress had apparently gotten to him because his stomach was a concave depression demarcated by the raised ridged outline of his ribs at the upper end and his iliac crest at the lower end... but what made Sam’s eyes widen was the row of steel rings with their gradually decreasing diameters that encircled his penis with the topmost ring being attached to the leather waist-band with leather ties. The rings were interconnected by means of longitudinal leather strips on four sides and there was a shiny, solid steel knob-like structure at the head of the penis. The sight of that purpling flesh was even more nauseating because of it’s stark contrast to the pasty white of Dean’s legs. Covered in barely visible blond fuzz, the appendages had a slight outward curve that had earned him a lot of teasing back during their school years, but Sam had always been amazed at their strength- Dean regularly outran him till his final growth spurt, and even now, he managed to be faster over shorter distances. Sam had always fared better at endurance runs, his long legs eating up distance more comfortably over greater lengths. Those legs had allowed his brother to reach him within minutes whenever Sam needed him, but watching him lay on the bed now, his legs lightly splayed; the only word that came to Sam’s mind was vulnerable.

 

He pushed them open wider and crawled between them, carefully reaching out but hesitating at the last second, “May I?”

 

“It’s okay. You can touch me,” Dean answered.

 

Sam touched the leather strip wonderingly, slowly tracing it down to the tip and moving the penis out of the way to see the way they encircled the scrotal sac.

 

“Dean, why-?”

 

“What? You really thought I’d use anything from that cabinet without trying it out first?”

 

His eyes shot up in surprise, “Everything?”

 

“Well, not the enema, obviously. Couldn’t find a way to test that out without raising questions... but yeah. So far, all of it. Naturally, I haven’t been able to wear it all for as long as you have, but yeah... shorter duration test runs have been carried out.”

 

“Thank you,” _Every time he thought Dean couldn’t surprise him more..._ “But-”

 

“But?”

 

“Please don’t try the rest of it out? I can take it, Dean... and you are careful enough. So please... don’t put yourself through this?”

 

“Sammy...”

 

“No, I mean it. You are not going to give a test run to anything else in there, okay? Promise me?”

 

Dean left out a defeated sigh but nodded, “Okay.”

 

“Say it.”

 

“Okay, I promise. I’ll not test the rest of the equipment.”

 

“Okay good, now tell me how to get this off you,”

 

“Ummm... You have to remove the plug first...”

 

“Plug?”

 

“Move back, I need to roll over.”

 

Sam obediently moved back. He winced when he saw the leather extension travelling down from the belt into his brother’s butt-crack. Dean reached behind himself to spread his cheeks and Sam reached in without further warning, blushing at the squelching sounds as he worked the ‘plug’ free. The ‘plug’ turned out to be slender steel cylinder with two knobs at one end, one slightly larger than the other. The larger knob was supposed to rest on the rim and prevent the plug from disappearing into the body and the smaller knob was to rest just inside the sphincter to prevent it from falling out. Dean let out a muffled gasp as the smaller knob was tugged out and Sam checked te reddened rim to ensure that there was no tearing- _obviously Dean had not used as much lubricant on himself as he had with Sam._ At his prompting, Sam undid the buckle on the waistband and moved back again so that Dean could turn back.

 

“Undo the clasps around my balls first,” Dean prompted, “And then retract the sound.”

 

“Sound?”

 

“The plug in my urethra.”

 

“You have a plug in your urethra?” Sam repeated. “Are you out of your mind?”

 

“This is the next step up from your chastity, Sammy.”

 

“Shit,” He cursed, then sat up as he s done with the straps around Dean’s scrotum. “How am I supposed to get rid of this _sound_ thing?”

 

“Just ease it out. Go slow, okay?”

 

Sam nodded, and then reached for the steel barbell like structure. Dean’s muscles flexed as he tugged at it gently, but his brother didn’t make a sound and slowly- _oh so slowly-_ the slender steel rod came out. Sam swallowed when he saw its length. The rings were the easy part and then Dean was free. Sam regarded the contraption once he’d freed his brother of it. “This is like some medieval torture device! You’re telling me I have to wear this someday?”

 

“It’s called the _Gates of Hell_ ,” Dean chuckled before sobering. “Fitting name, if you ask me... And yes, you’ll be wearing it. Not now. But someday... maybe I’ll reserve it solely for punishments. That work with you?”

 

He wanted to instinctively cover his genitals and shake his head singing ‘ _la-la-la-la_ ’ the way he used to as a child when he didn’t want to hear something... but grudging admitted _\- even if only to himself_ \- that he was too old for that reaction. In the end he just tossed the contraption to the side and met Dean’s eyes, “Thanks,”

 

“No problem.” Dean smiled, “Now, have you ever given a blowjob?”

 

“No,”

 

“Oral sex? With a girl?”

 

“No,”

 

“Not even with Jess?” Dean asked incredulously.

 

“She was pretty vanilla, Dean.” He snapped, “And please don’t ever – _ever_ – mention her again while we’re in here, okay?”

 

“ _She was_ , was she?” His brother teased, ignoring his request for the moment. “Okay, no problem. Just lean down and put your lips against my skin, okay?”  

 

Sam breathed out and obeyed. He could feel himself trembling as he lowered his head and hoped Dean would chalk it to the awkward contortion his body was forced into than nerves. He wondered if he was supposed to keep his eyes open or closed... and his mouth. He couldn’t actually _give_ a blowjob with his mouth closed, could he? His jaw seemed locked together though and he struggled to unhinge it so that he could open his mouth.

 

“Keep your mouth closed for now.”

 

Sam jumped at the sudden directive, pulling back slightly to look up at Dean once. His brother’s eyes were soft as he met his gaze and he hoped his expression reflected how grateful he was for Dean’s words _before_ he had actually opened his mouth.

 

He tried to lower his head again but was stopped by a warm hand cupping his face. He sat back up on his knees obediently at the wordless command.

 

“Well?”

 

He raised his eyebrows in confusion, _well what?_

Dean shook his head with a soft chuckle, “How was it?”

 

Sam blushed, he couldn’t help it. He’d been so preoccupied with the _technique_ that he hadn’t put any thought at all into the sensations.

 

“Sammy?” Dean’s voice took on a slightly hesitant quality as he pressed. “I didn’t smell disgusting or anything; did I?”

 

They had been together long enough that Sam knew the signs of an upcoming panic attack and he flattened his palm against Dean’s heaving belly instinctively. Dean was usually so strong that it always shook Sam whenever he watched his brother have one of his attacks. His hand was huge and dark against the paleness of Dean’s skin and it reminded Sam once again that while he’d inherited his father’s looks much to Dean’s chagrin; his brother had their mother’s.  It took a moment, but the flexing muscles under his palm eventually relaxed.

 

“You didn’t- _don’t_ smell.” Sam murmured once Dean was back in control of himself; trying not think about the experiences the older man must have had to be worried about _that._

“You’re sure? I can go and scrub down. No issues.”

 

He felt his lips tug upwards at the offer. He had known Dean was his best bet, going into this; but he had never expected this level of dedication. “Honestly, smell’s not the issue here.”

 

“Oh,” Dean’s face fell slightly but the man continued staring at him, his eyes’ reflecting nothing but concern, “Can I ask what is?”

 

“Oh brother,” Sam sighed, giving up on holding back and curling into his sibling’s chest. Sure, he was naked, but he’d been so for a few weeks now and was no longer as worried about appearances as he had initially been; and right now Dean was lying with his pants off and arms tight around the headboard- the perfect picture of supplication if there ever was one, but his brother was only concerned about him.

 

“Can I... is it okay if I touch you?”

 

He nodded permission instantly and was gratified when Dean’s arms came down to curl protectively around him immediately. “Tell me what the problem is?”

 

Sam smiled, marvelling at how inexplicably _safe_ he felt despite the situation... if there was one upside to their capture, he would have to say this was it- Dean was far more openly affectionate than he had been and being each other’s sole company 24/7 in an unchanging environment allowed them to talk about things they had shoved under the rug in favour of taking in the scenery.

 

“I don’t know how to give a blowjob...” He confessed.

 

“You’ve ever been on the receiving end of one?” Dean asked.

 

Sam pulled back slightly to glare at the man, “Of course!”

 

Dean let out a relieved breath, “Okay, that’s good-”

 

Sam stared at him, “Seriously?”

 

Dean shrugged, “Well, I was under the impression that you’re one of those in-the-dark-missionary- position-only dudes, so to hear that you do have some experience is heartening.”

 

“Dude!” Sam complained, slapping his chest lightly as he scrambled back on his haunches.

 

Dean just laughed harder.

 

“I’m serious. I’ve never done this- _or thought about doing this-_ and I’m nervous. What if I’m no good at it?”

 

“Well,” Dean said slowly as his laughter wound down, “It’s not exactly rocket science and you may not get it perfect the first time around, but you’ll eventually get the hang of it if you keep at it. And as far as- as far as _technique_ is concerned, everyone likes something different. Sure, there are a few common factors- a soft welcoming mouth, gentle suction... most people enjoy that. Anything beyond that is subjective. But hey...it’s not like you’re going to go around offering your mouth to strangers or something- not on my watch. So the only one you have to worry about pleasing is me. And I’m a man of simple tastes, Sammy. I’m sure a college boy like you will manage to keep up.”

 

“You’ll talk me through it?” Sam asked, ignoring Dean’s talk about _preferences_ and trying hard not to imagine how Dean might have gained that knowledge.

 

“Of course. Now, to get back to my earlier question... what did it feel like?”

 

“Uh... honestly? I think I was way too nervous to feel anything. Can I try again?”

 

Dean silently spread his legs in permission and Sam hurried to repeat his earlier action. Now that he wasn’t thinking about what he had to do or if he was doing it correctly or not, it was far easier than his first attempt. He could feel the warmth of the skin and a faint thud of Dean’s heartbeat if he kept very still. Dean was right, there was a slight musky smell, but it wasn’t dirty or sweaty (and to Sam’s relief it didn’t smell like urine either)... it was more like a concentrated whiff of Dean’s own essence.

 

“Well?” His brother asked when he sat up.

 

“It’s skin,” He shrugged. “Not that different from putting my lips to your cheek or-... well, that’s wrong, you have stubble and your cheeks are extremely scratchy. So maybe... your chest? Yeah... it’s like that. And there’s this slight musky smell... not as bad as your armpit... but yeah, a lighter scent? Does that make sense?”

 

His brother nodded encouragingly. “Good, that’s good. Now I want you to repeat that, okay? Just... open your mouth this time? _Do not_ try to take me in your mouth or any other theatrics like that... a lick or two if you want, nothing more than that.”

 

“Yes Sir,” Sam winked and went on to do as directed. He didn’t wait for Dean’s question before speaking this time. “Skin, again. I don’t know what you want me to say here. Unless I knew, I could’ve been licking your palm for all the difference in flavour... the only other thing I noticed was how thin it was? Your skin there, I mean... teeth would be seriously damaging.”

 

Dean chuckled, “I hope you’re not planning to use your teeth on me, then.”

 

Sam shook his head but waited for further instructions and on and on it went till Sam was reasonably confident of what he was doing. His brother was not a small man in any regard, and he was not sure if he would ever be able to accommodate his whole length in his mouth, but Dean didn’t seem to want that – at least not immediately- and he was determined not to worry about it until then. For now he was happy that Dean was flushed and erect and seemed to be on the brink of orgasming.

 

“Stop,”

 

Sam pulled back immediately. “What? What’s wrong?”

 

“I won’t be able to keep from ejaculating if you keep that up,” Dean admitted.

 

“That good?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

 

“That good,” Dean laughed, “Congratulations, Kiddo.”

 

“Thanks. So... why did you ask me to stop? I thought that was the objective here...”

 

“You don’t want to practice anymore?”

 

“Practice?” Sam asked uncertainly.

 

“Practice,” Dean told him, reaching down between his own legs and squeezing hard till he was flaccid again.

 

Sam winced just watching the procedure, his hands cupping his cage genitals protectively. “Promise me never to ever _ever_ do that to me!”

 

Dean just chuckled even though his laugh had a tinge of hysteria to it. He placed his hands back up against the headboard and widened his legs, “Go on, what are you waiting for?”

 

Sam went back to _practice._


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning Sam woke Dean the ‘traditional way’ despite his aching jaw from the previous day’s ‘practice’.

“I was thinking... since you’ve been doing so well; today you should get a prize.” Dean announced after his enema session.

“A prize?” Sam repeated blankly. It was slightly dumb but in his defence, he was still weak-kneed from the last enema and not firing on all cylinders.

“Well, a choice really... I thought we could explore the items on the shelf some more. We haven’t tried anything new since your chastity and like you said yesterday, a change of pace might be nice.”

“Oh,”

Sam waited for his plug to be re-inserted but when nothing happened for long minutes; he glanced up to find Dean across the room and laying something on the bed. As though sensing his regard, his brother glanced back at him and their eyes met. Sam glanced down immediately, knowing he wasn’t supposed to be looking around and hoped he would not be punished for breaking the rules.

“I’ve already seen you looking around, Sammy; so that show of obedience is not saving your butt from it’s appointment with my hand...”

“I’m sorry...” He whispered. He had not earned a paddling session since that first time when the guards had ordered it and he was terrified... Dean’s hands were frighteningly strong and he didn’t want another spanking.

“Anyway, you’re not wearing your regular plug today. So c’mon up... take a look at what I’ve got for you,”

Having grown used to the weight of the plug constantly stretching him, Sam felt uncomfortably open but obediently followed his brother’s order and walked to the bed to see the items laid out for him. He swallowed nervously as he eyed the three objects displayed on the starched white sheets of their bed, muscles tensing involuntarily as he tried to shy away from them. Dean stepped up behind him to stop his retreat and loosely wrapped an arm around him in wordless affection.

“De-Dean...” His breath shuddered out of him on a nervous exhale.

“Sshhh... You trust me, right?”

He nodded mutely. There was no contest. He did trust Dean with his very life and with every part of him. And so far he’d never had occasion to regret that trust. He curled his own palms over his brother’s and took a moment to simply breath till his heart settled into a more sedate pace instead of the gallop it had launched into.

“So...which one would you like to try?” Dean asked once he was reasonably calm.

“I don’t even know what those are!” He protested.

Dean chuckled quietly next to him as he stepped forward to explain. “This,” The man pointed to the first item. It looked like some sort of demented Christmas/Halloween decor to Sam although he had a horrible suspicion about its actual purpose. There was a thick fluffy tail at one end from which protruded a short steel stalk that flared abruptly into a large ball about an inch and half in diameter; the other end of the ball was joined to flexible rubber tubing with another half a dozen balls connected similarly. “It’s called anal beads. They go inside you... I think you know how from its name.”

Sam nodded, throat dry as he tried to picture the roiling balls and the constant weight of the tail at his rim.

“Now this, this is a sound. It’s the one with the smallest thickness that I could find among the collection we have on the shelves. It goes in your penile slit.”His brother pointed to the next item on the bed. It was the smallest of the three ‘things’ on display, but no less daunting.

“It’s long,” Sam whispered; hands fisted at his sides to prevent cupping his groin protectively.

“Yes,” Dean agreed readily. “It will press against your bladder. Make you feel like you need to pee... but I thought you’d prefer something narrow for your first time instead of short and wide.”

“How- how wide?” He wanted to know.

“Well, one of them is about as thick as my little finger... another not so much but it has nubs which will rub your urethra... and I don’t think that anything rubbing in there is going to be painless. And the third option is a Foley catheter. It’s a hollow tube with an internal diameter about the thickness of a pencil. It also has an inflatable bulb that’s going to rest just above the opening to your bladder. It’ll allow me to decide if and when you can pee.”

His throat clicked as he swallowed nervously at the descriptions, “And- and the last one?”

Dean bowed his head for a moment before speaking and Sam felt his nerves spike.

“Collar,” Dean pointed to the thick leather band. “Nipple clamps,” the two sharp alligator clamps tied to the slender chain. “Anal hook and cock ring,” Dean pointed to the circular steel band and a small solid steel ball with the aforementioned ‘hook’ protruding from it, “And the chain that links all of these.”

Sam gaped.

“So now you know,”

He looked away from the items on the bed to glance at his brother nervously. “The – the beads,”

Dean shook his head disappointedly.

“Did I choose wrong? Dean? I didn’t know! What did I do wrong?” He babbled, reaching out towards his brother on instinct and grabbing at his forearms.

Dean looked down where Sam’s hands were encircling his and glanced back up pointedly. Remembering the previous day’s lesson, Sam let go instantly. “I-I’m sorry...”

“I know you are... but I cannot excuse such carelessness, Sammy. Maybe if I punish you this time you’ll not repeat your mistake?”

Sam trembled but managed to hold still, his eyes darting towards the ‘safe-haven’ Dean had promised him the top bunk would be.

Hunter that he was, obviously his glance towards the other bed was not missed by Dean. “You can go there if you want. I shall not follow you in there. I made it to serve for this very purpose, you know? So that you have an escape, should you need it”

“And my punishment?”

“Both your reward and punishment can wait till you are feeling better.”

“So, not escaping it... I’ll just be...”

“Postponing it,” His brother supplied.

Sam nodded, glanced longingly towards the cosy corner before facing Dean again, “Can I hear it first? What my punishment is going to be?”

“Would it help?” Dean asked, “It’s not like I’m changing it on the basis of your opinion.”

“May I speak freely?” Sam asked hesitantly- he’d already racked up two punishments since morning; he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle more.

“Excellent!” Dean beamed, “Being a fast learner is good. And yes, you can speak freely, unless you insult me or use foul language you will not be punished.”

“Thank you,” Sam remembered to say- the two of them had never been big on formalities with each other and saying please and thanks was almost an alien concept... Sure, their father had always got those words from them and the honorific ‘Sir’, but Sam had always treated Dean like an extension to himself at best and a constant at worst. Now that he was his ‘master’, it was difficult to remember to be polite... Dean himself overlooked it most of the time so it was somewhat of a relief, but it was still something that was expected of him and since Dean appeared to be ‘punishment-happy’ today, he wanted to make sure he didn’t earn more of them. “Knowing my punishment will allow me to figure out if I need to shore up my nerves before facing it. So please...?”

“Sure,” Dean agreed readily. “You have made two errors; well, okay three if I’m honest, but the first has already earned you a spanking... which is still due, I know, but yeah, it’s decided so that’s one punishment done. The second can be overlooked since you were not explicitly told about it, I just assumed you knew the way you seem to just guess and figure out stuff about so many of the things here... The third one, yeah... I’d told you about it yesterday itself.”

Sam lowered his head dejectedly.

“So the second one- the one you didn’t know,” Dean began, “What are you here to be trained as, Sammy?”

“A... a sub,”

“Sub,” Den repeated flatly, clearly not impressed by his reduction.

“Submissive,” Sam whispered.

“Very good,” Dean praised, reaching out to card his fingers through the thick brown strands in wordless comforting.  “And can you tell me what the signs of a good submissive are? Do they make their own decisions?”

“N-No,” Sam answered, taking the hint from Dean’s questions to expand. “They trust their ma-master to know what’s best for them.”

“Excellent!” Dean cheered him, “So, now can you tell me what your mistake was?”

“I chose which implement was to be used,” Sam surmised guiltily. He glanced up uncertainly, “But you asked me to choose!”

“Yes, I did” Dean agreed, “and your proper response should have been ‘ _Whichever pleases you, Master.’”_

“Oh,”

“It’s okay,” Dean reassured, “You’ll learn.”

“My punishment?”

“Hmmm... Like I said, I’m not punishing you for your second error- you didn’t know about it. But your third mistake, touching me without permission... well, you should face something similar- more stimulation than you’re probably comfortable with? If you are, well lucky you- I’ll not add stuff to make it harder, but since I know you...I was thinking you _can_ wear your beads. Then we’ll do something and if you are not begging for release within two hours, I get to use the other implements- either individually or in any combination I please. How does that sound?”

“Yes, Master.” Sam whispered, staring in awe at his brother. Instead of something he could not handle, his brother had given him a challenge. Chances were he was not going to win it, but there was still _chance_ and that hope was what he needed. Either way, he knew that he could (and would) trust Dean to watch out for him, but the fact that he still had a fighting chance to escape was enough for now. “Thank you.”

 

“So you need a break or do you want to do it now?”

“Now is fine, Master.” Sam whispered, moving the items on the bed aside and climbing up in it. He assumed the ‘enema position’- face down on all fours with his hands reaching behind him to part his butt cheeks.

“Nope, want you on your back. Prop your head up with the pillows,” Dean told him with a pat on his rear.

Sam blushed but obeyed, slightly confused about how this would help. Dean grabbed his legs and folded them back up towards his chest, then made him hook his hands underneath his knees.

“Ready?”

Sam watched the sinuous long stand of beads laid out between his splayed legs and nodded nervously, flinching slightly when the cold metal ball touched his rim but relaxing as it was slipped inside. It was small enough that it went in easily and then instead of the next one, Dean slipped his fore-finger alongside it; unerringly homing in on his prostate and rubbing it. It made Sam’s back arch and had him gasping as his trapped genitals reacted to the stimulation. Knowing better that to ask the other man to stop, Sam clenched his eyes shut and tried to ride the sensations out, relaxing when they stopped moments after. He opened his eyes to glance downwards again and couldn’t stop the whimper as the next ball that was pushed in rubbed that spot inside him again. Dean’s lips twitched at the reaction even though he wasn’t looking at Sam and the older man continued feeding him the remaining five balls till the tail was sung against him.

“Okay, you’re ready. Up!” Dean patted his stomach, making him inhale and setting the balls roiling inside him. He sat up painfully and felt his eyes widen at the pressure against his rim. The fluffy tail felt surprisingly heavy and made him clench instinctively and when he stood, the steel balls inside him moved distractingly.

“Ready?”

He glanced up blankly, “Huh?”

Dean just laughed at his lost expression. “Exercise time, Sammy. You skipped yesterday... Don’t want to get fat, do you?”

Sam felt his mouth fall open as understanding dawned- it was part of his regular routine, but making Sam do just about anything while he had those balls inside him was going to stimulate him. He wouldn’t even need two hours, he would be begging for relief in an hour, Sam knew and his brother was apparently counting on that. He nodded dejectedly, “Yes Master.”

In the end he did not even last a full half-hour before he was on his knees before his older sibling, begging for relief.

Dean smiled and brushed his hair, then stepped close and allowed him to rest his face against his flannel covered abdomen till his breathing evened out. His eyes widened and he gasped as he was helped to his feet and he was ready to beg again by the time they managed to walk back to their cell from the exercise yard.

Dean tied a plastic bag around the fluffy tail to keep it dry and then helped him into the shower area, hosing him down with cold water till he was shivering from the cold. “Better?”

Sam peered at him from behind a curtain of wet hair and didn’t answer.

“How about this, I’ll put the other items I wanted to use on you and _then_ grant you the relief you seek. Granting you relief now will only make you over-stimulated and that’s not something you want. Trust me.”

Sam nodded morosely. He quietly allowed himself to be dried and then led back to the bed. Dean pushed his legs apart and crouched between the splayed appendages and Sam grabbed at the sheets when he picked up the sound.

Not missing his rising panic, a warm palm flattened itself on his heaving stomach immediately. “Deep breaths... C’mon now... inhale. One- two- three... very good. Exhale... two and three. Good. Inhale... two and three. Let it out now. Slow...Slow... yes, good. One more time, inhale... yes... Good boy. Exhale... Sshhh.... yes. Better?”

Sam nodded.

“Trust me to take care of you?”

His nod wasn’t hesitant this time around. He trusted Dean; there was no question about that. The only doubts he had were his own ability to weather the effect of the items Dean had shown him that morning.

“Good boy. So proud of you, Sammy. I’ll take care of you, okay? I promise. You don’t think I’d ever do something that’d hurt you, do you? No? Good. So trust me to take care of you now.”

“It looks scary.” He confessed softly.

Dean chuckled. “I know it does. But it’s not that bad, I promise. The hell-gate’s sound was far thicker and I could sleep with it in. It’ll feel weird but it’s not going to damage you, I promise.”

“I’m not as strong as you, Dean...” He murmured, cheeks heating at the embarrassing admission. “I don’t think- ”

“No, you are far stronger than I could ever dream of being, Kiddo.” Dean countered equally softly. “You think it takes strength to wear these things? It doesn’t. _Anyone_ can wear them. Sure, consent is an issue, but yeah; pulling these on is nothing special. ... But you, you are _letting_ me put them on you; these and other things, worse things. Do things to you that should make you if not hate me, then at least be scared of me. And yet you continue to be able to see the good in others, Sammy. _That_ is strength, li’l brother. ... I don’t think anyone else would be able to manage that, not in your shoes. I sure as hell wouldn’t have. I’d logically know that you’re not to blame, but had our positions been reverse, I’d have grown to resent you sooner or later. So trust me, if its a contest of strength, you are so far ahead of me that I can barely even make you out on the horizon.”

Sam blushed at the praise. It was something Pavlovian at this stage- their father had been notoriously hard to please, so Sam had learnt early on that it was his brother he had to impress. So all his A’s, his awards at school quizzes, his sports trophies, his valedictory speeches... they had all gone to Dean... _everything but his acceptance from Stanford_. And Dean had dutifully put them up on the fridge (if their rental had one) or the table or some make-shift display board, ruffling his hair fondly and taking him out for ice-cream (if they had the money), or reducing his chores (when there hadn’t been enough cash to ensure three square meals, forget ice-cream). After he’d got back from his stint in California, he’d thought he’d out-grown the need to please his brother; but the thrill that had spread through him when Dean had called him smart for putting together a pattern and discovering the monster-of-the-week (or finding a way to eliminate a threat) had put an end to that lie. ... So hearing that praise now when he thought he’d failed his brother was a relief.

Sam swallowed but nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Dean checked, “Does that mean I can continue now?”

He nodded shyly.

“Good boy, so proud of you!” Dean praised as he undid the chastity cage.

Sam’s lips twitched at the commendation but his fingers fisted on the bedspread as he waited for Dean to continue.

“Okay, this will be easier if we use gravity... think you can lie down for me?”

Sam nodded.

“Such a brave boy,” Dean told him as he helped him lie flat on his back, adjusting the tail so that it’s base was not digging into him. “Sammy, I’m not going to blindfold you, but the sound looks way scarier going in than it feels, so I’m gonna ask you not to, okay? There’s no punishment if youdo look, I just think it’ll be easier on you if you don’t. Clear?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Not ‘sir’, Sammy. Use my name. You can call me master if the situation demands, but Sir was Dad, okay? So please don’t call me that... it’s wrong enough that I’m doing this to you, if I have to think of Dad touching you inappropriately-”

“He didn’t.” Sam interrupted. “Not once. Dad was a lot of things but he never touched me inappropriately.”

“Not even when-?”

“When?”

“When he took you to get enrolled?”

“You don’t know?” Sam asked, curious.

“Know what?”

Sam was vaguely aware of something narrow touching the tip of his penile slit and then something cold and slimy slithering in, but it wasn’t exactly painful and the conversation at hand was suitably distracting.

Every family with more than one child was legally required to sign up their younger child to be trained as ‘submissive’; it was meant as an incentive for people to restrict themselves to just once child per family. The family could pick who would ‘own’ the submissive- either someone from their family itself or a friend; or alternatively, they could give the submissive to the centre for a monetary return. In rare cases where the younger sibling showed more ‘promise’, the older one could be offered up in exchange as the ‘submissive’. When they had been younger, Dean had been adamant that he be sent off as the Winchester ‘submissive’. He promised that he would not ‘loose himself to the training’ and that he would be able to keep hunting once he got back from training if John signed on as his ‘owner’. In the same breath, Dean also agreed that given their financial situation, it might be wiser to give him to the centre... Sam knew that what Dean actually wanted, was to protect Sam; and given their academic grades, it wouldn’t have been hard to offer up a trade. Unfortunately, John Winchester wasn’t most parents and had little value for academic brilliance. So when Sam’s sixteenth birthday rolled around, he put his youngest in the passenger seat and drove to the centre to sign him up. He would still have two years before he was shipped off for training, so there was no fear of losing him immediately, but t had stung Sam that he was so easily discardable to his father. Besides, he was terrified that with John as his ‘owner’, life as he knew it would be over. So it had come as a pleasant surprise that he had been signed off into his brother’s care instead... not that it had actually mattered, the family going into hiding so that neither of the Winchester brothers ended up being trained as the ‘submissive’... _Until now_.

“Dad’s not my owner,” Sam told him, trying to hold still through the sudden pressure in his cock.

“No?”

“Why do you think I never fought him about it?”

“I figured it was something you wanted to forget.” Dean shrugged.

“It’s your name on those papers, Dean. Dad gifted me to you. He didn’t tell you any of this?”

“No,” Dean told him, then straightened. “There, it’s in.”

Sam peered down the length of his body to see the small loop protruding from the tip of his member and shuddered. It was a strange sensation, but like Dean had said- it wasn’t painful.

 

 

The clamps _were_ painful.

Sam yelped and clutched at his chest as he glared up in betrayal at his brother, but Dean just smiled and helped him sit up, adjusting the slender chain behind his back and bringing it forward from the other side and fastening the other clamp as well. Sam groaned and arched his body, then gasped as the movement set the balls inside him moving again and jostled the penis-plug, sparking sensations across - _what felt like_ \- every single nerve ending.

He was made to lean forward as Dean clipped on the ring at the base of the tail plug, the chain extending along the line of the spine till it slid through the loop in the chain binding his nipples and up to where it would be affixed to the hoop on the collar. Sam swallowed as he felt the pliable leather wrap snugly around his throat, then waited for Dean to affix the chain at his nape. It would make looking down difficult and keep his back arched if he wanted it to avoid tugging at his anal beads, and Sam knew Dean was going to utilize the stressed position to stimulate him.

“Hey, Winchester!”

Dean paused, the final attachment of the chain to Sam’s collar remaining undone as he went to the bars where the guards were waiting for him. Sam kept his head lowered. While he had grown used to his nudity, it still bothered him to be put on display... fortunately, given he was currently kneeling on the bed facing the wall, not much would be visible. He could feel eyes on him but he wasn’t sure if the gaze was Dean’s or the guards. He hoped it was the former.

A few minutes later a warm palm flattened itself on his back.

Sam breathed.

“We’ve been summoned,” Dean whispered as he curled protectively over Sam. “They want to view our _progress_.”


	12. Chapter 12

Sam shuddered, breath coming in rapid gasps as he digested the news. Dean was a warm weight at his back and he knew that it wouldn’t be long before they would have to leave, but he enjoyed the feeling of safety while it lasted.

“I was thinking I could show you off,” Dean murmured. “You are absolutely breathtaking, so letting them witness just how gorgeously you beg and submit might get them off our backs for now.”

“Okay,” Sam whispered, cheeks ruby red from the praise.

“I know you are desperate for relief,” Dean continued, one hand heading down to brush against his plugged genitals and making him jerk at the contact, “But do you think you can hold on for a little bit more?”

“If you wish it,” Sam conceded.

“Good boy, thank you.” Dean told him before getting off him and heading to the shelves again. Sam didn’t bother looking to see what Dean was fetching- _he would be finding out soon enough._ He focused on closing his eyes and regulating his breathing instead. The bed dipped when Dean returned and Sam tensed involuntarily. He was shushed and that spot on his nape massaged that made him relax. Dean had discovered it in their childhood but had never touched him there after his return from Stanford and Sam had assumed he had forgotten- he wasn’t wrong, in a way because Dean had admitted to have forgotten about it once he’d re-discovered it here, but since then Dean had used it shamelessly to calm him. Dean’s sure hands helped him uncoil from his crouched position and guided him to spread out on his front. A long line of something pleasantly cool drizzled down the centre of his back before Dean straddled him- _careful to keep his weight off_ \- and started working the oil in. Dean had always been good with his hands and Sam found himself relaxing into the message despite the situation, only stiffening when the man reached his stuffed-to-bursting rear. Careful hands massaged the globes of his ass and then parted the cheeks to rub some oil between them as well. His legs were parted and the massage continued downwards till even the soles of his feet were covered in a shiny coat of lubrication. He started to turn but Dean stilled him with a hand, dusting him down with something and then helped him turn on the bed.

He was still holding the brush when Sam was on his back.

“What is that?”

“Bronzer,”

“Seriously?”

Dean shrugged, “You look good as is, Sammy. ... but a little something extra never hurt anyone.”

Sam snapped his mouth closed at the explanation and waited as Dean meted out his front a similar treatment. Once done, his face was carefully done up with the lightest brush of shimmer across his cheekbones, and a touch of colourless gloss on his lips. Already swollen from the previous day’s training, the gloss made his lips look positively sinful and Sam blushed as he thought of others seeing him like this.

Next, Dean had him kneel up again and carefully brushed out the tangles from his hair and combed it till it was glossy and fell around his face in thick leonine locks. If not for the situation and the awareness of what awaited them, Sam would have felt ridiculously pampered.

“Ready?”

Sam shivered but nodded, back arching automatically when Dean finally connected his collar to the chain. A gasp escaped his mouth as it was further adjusted, making him push his hips back to keep the anal beads from tugging painfully. The chain was short enough that he could not bend his head forward and Sam couldn’t stop his whine when Dean clipped on another short chain to connect his nipple clamps on the front as they did at his back. The chain at his back was linked to the one connecting the collar and his beads, while the one in front had another attachment right in the middle that went straight down and was linked to his cock-ring. Like the others this was on the shorter side as well and made him thrust out his chest to lessen the pressure. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it made him aware of all his sensitive nerves and made him feel so vulnerable that Sam just wanted to curl into a ball and hide himself; unfortunately, the chains wouldn’t allow that. Dean headed to the shelves again and this time he had something made of leather in his hands that he wrapped carefully around the younger Winchester’s waist. Only once it was on did Sam realize that it was basically nothing but a skirt- made of overlapping flaps, it was more like the one worn by Gal Gadot in that movie. High cuts on the flap at his thighs allowed for ease of movement even as they fluttered tantalizingly, but he had to admit that they were far more comfortable than the tight wraps he’d seen in some of the kinkier porn that he’d watched. He frowned when he realized there was no pressure from the skirt’s flaps on his ‘tail’ and reached a hand behind himself inquisitively, only to discover that the central flap of the skirt from the back was short and ended just above his ‘tail’. He blushed, knowing how wanton it must make him look with his hips arching up at the back the way they were.

“One last thing...” Dean announced and Sam glanced at his brother only to find him approaching with heels.

Not extravagantly high ones, but the three inches were more than enough given his current predicament. A dark chocolate brown to complement his skirt and ‘tail’ (and of course, collar); the heels had leather cords that Dean had efficiently wrapped around his calves like gladiatorial sandals, and they _were_ similar if not for the three inch high heels.

“Walk around a bit,” Dean ordered, “Let me get a look at you,”

Sam flushed, but obediently took a few tottering steps- any of the items individually would have been easily manageable. Sam suspected that even if they had been paired, he could have handled it but wearing them _all_ together was risking sensory overload. The oil between his nether cheeks made them slide unfamiliarly against each other, making him feel humiliatingly wet and open, the tail a delicious pressure against his rim. The beads inside of him rolled like they had a mind of their own and each time one of them came into contact with his prostate, Sam gasped, clenching down instinctively and inadvertently re-started the whole process. The sound in his penis was an unfamiliar weight and given how it was pressing up against the entrance of his bladder, it was a constant low-level feeling of needing to pee. The constant pressure against his prostate kept him hard, unfortunately and the ring connecting them to his testicles were just another thing in the long list that made him desperate to find a willing body to satiate his lust. The nipple clamps tugged insistently at his chest and the chain connecting them to his chastity meant they were tugged each time he took a step forward. He tried pushing out his chest to alleviate some of the pressure, but the rear chain refused to allow him to bend forward and he had to keep his head held high as he made his humiliating walk.

“So beautiful,” Dean murmured, reaching out and tucking him in against his side and Sam breathed in relief.

“Anything hurt?”

He shook his head.

“Do you think you can come just from this?”

Sam felt his cheeks heat, but refused to answer.

“Sammy?”

“Don’t know...” He lied.

“Hey, I need to know if you need more stimulation Kiddo...”

“No!” Sam gasped out, “This- this is enough,”

“You’re sure? I want you on the verge of insanity from the stimulation... it’ll make things easier on you... help you give them a show.”

“I was tortured by the Devil himself, Dean.” He sniffed imperiously, glaring at his brother.

“I know,” Dean agreed, “And it’s not my intention to _torture you_. ... I just want to make sure that we can give them enough of a show that we are not asked to actually _do something_ , you know?”

“I’m okay if I don’t have to move...” Sam confessed as he digested that. “If I hold very still I can feel everything on me but I can tune them out-”

“Well,yeah, that’s fine. Don’t want you begging for relief- not right now, at any rate ... but I figured that if we have walk to wherever we have been summoned... it should make you suitably ... _sensitive._ Worst case scenario, I make you suck me off in front of them ...”

Sam clenched his eyes shut, “Please...”

“Try to relax now, alright? I’ll protect you the best I can, ok-?”

There was a knock against the bars of their cell before Dean finished speaking and both brothers glanced to find the guards unlocking the doors for them.

“One last thing; whatever we have to do out there, we do it. Okay, Sammy? I’ll try to shield you as much as I can, but even if my plan works, you know what it involves. So if it happens, it happens; okay? Don’t try to fight it, and _do_ _not_ be ashamed. I’d love to see you lose control without a hand on you and I’m sure, so will the counsel.”

He had time for a terse nod. And then the guards were opening the door and leading them out.


	13. Chapter 13

Sam’s steps were unsteady and he stayed close to Dean, both for the support and for the sense of protection that the older man radiated. The ‘attachments’ did their job and by the time they were ushered into what looked like a waiting room, Sam was in near tears from the painful arousal forced on him by the beads and clamps and chains adorning his body. Dean helped him to kneel and then waited patiently despite the summons from the guards till Sam had settled. His body was still helplessly seeking relief, but after a few interminably long minutes he could breathe normally again and Sam counted that as a victory.

“You okay?”

Sam nodded.

“Words, Sammy.”

“Sorry,” He murmured, “Yes, I’m ... uh... I’ll be okay.”

“Good. Gotta go now, Bitch. See you in a few.” And with a fond caress of his hair, Dean was heading for the doors.

Once Dean had left to join the other Dominants, Sam peered around and found himself in a room with about ten other ‘subs’.  Barring him, the others were all stark naked and a few bore the signs of a recent punishment session. Most looked sullen and talked among themselves in inaudible whispers, and a few threw heated glares in his direction. Sam lowered his eyes, not wanting to antagonise anyone while he was battling such a huge disadvantage and jumped when the sub kneeling next to him- a young red-haired girl- leaned in to murmur “Don’t worry about them, they are just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Sam questioned incredulously.

“Well, yeah. None of their owners look after them as tenderly as yours just did. Hell, Neal’s master tossed him in like a sack of potatoes.”

Sam glanced around again and spotted a slim, but tall man a few feet away. The naked male sported a swelling bump on his left temple and his lip was split on the same side. “That him?”

The girl next to him nodded, “Good observation.”

Sam smiled, but didn’t explain that being observant was what had kept his brother and him alive all these years. “Hey, I uh... I didn’t catch your name.”

“I am whatever Master wishes to call me. However, you may call me Amelia.”

“Right, I’m Sam.”

She raised her brow and he ducked his head shyly, abruptly aware of how lucky he was to have Dean. “De- uh... My uh... my Master doesn’t believe in changing a sub’s name.”

“Seriously? I think I heard him call you a ‘Bitch’,” she told him prissily.

Sam chuckled, but realized explaining the truth might not be the wisest option. “Good observation.”

“You are in surprisingly good spirits,” Amelia informed him and Sam felt his laughter die.

“Honestly, I still can’t believe that I’m here. Feels like a bad nightmare half the time.” He told her uncomfortably.

“Right,” She agreed noncommitantly and looked away towards where one of the subs was being helped back into the cell and another taken.

Sam swallowed as he noticed the bruises blooming on the man’s pale hips and the neat lines in a diagonal pattern over his back. It made his gut clench to think that it might soon be him in a similar condition and he looked around in hopes of distracting his thoughts. He gaze caught onto Amelia who was looking at a female sub who was curled into a miserable ball across the room.  Amelia had what might have been described as classically beautiful: auburn hair framing a heart-shaped face, thick lips which seemed to be held in a perpetual pout, blue eyes framed by thick lashes, high cheekbones and a sharp, upturned nose. Her breasts were small and high which countered her wide hips. Her stomach was not quite flat, but the soft swell of it was more cute than unflattering. He didn’t allow his gaze to slip lower but when he glanced up she was looking at him unabashedly.

“I’m guessing you were heterosexual before being caught, huh?” His companion asked.

Sam flushed, embarrassed at having been caught staring.

“You can look if you want. But don’t even think of touching, okay?” She told him with a shrug, “It looks like your owner already enjoys feminising you. If you touch me, he might just find it interesting to rob you of that impressive package between your legs and _make you a girl,_ you know?”

Sam’s breath caught in his throat even as his eyes widened at the words. He knew that Dean wouldn’t do something like that to him, but he hadn’t known that it had been an _option_.

Amelia chuckled, “You men are all the same, aren’t you? Threaten your so called ‘man-hood’ and you’re willing to do anything. _Pathetic!”_

“Yeah, well... I don’t think non-consensual body-modification appeals to anyone, does it? How’d you feel if someone threatened to take away your breasts?” Sam shot back, tired of the woman’s judgemental tirade.

“Under the circumstances, I’d be glad actually.” She told him with a shrug, “It means one less part for Master to play with.”

Sam’s mouth fell open, “You’re joking!”

“I’m not, actually... and I’d have thought you would agree. I mean whatever he’s done to you ... _there...” she waved towards his genitals “_ It doesn’t look fun. Besides, it’s not like you’re going to father children. It’s just something your master punishes you for having, right?”

Sam didn’t reply.

“What? You’re acting like you haven’t been taking it up the ass on the regular!” She laughed.

“I haven’t.” He confessed quietly.

“Seriously?”

He nodded.

“Oh you poor innocent,” She mock patted his arm and then froze when Dean strode in.

“We’re up next, Sammy. You ready?”

Sam felt his mouth dry, “Yes... Ma- master.”

Dean smiled obliviously as he helped him up, “C’mon.”

Just the act of standing had Sam back to being painfully aroused and he froze for a moment.

“Hurry up, Kiddo. We don’t have all day, you know?”

Sam flushed at the reprimand, but it was just _so hard_ to walk with all the sensations frying his nerves that he couldn’t help but walk slowly. Dean’s hand tightened on his bicep as the older Winchester increased his speed, nearly dragging Sam in his wake.

The corridor to the room where the evaluations were occurring was not long, but Sam gasped as he caught sight of the giant hall where the evaluators were waiting at the far end.

“Dean, please...” He whispered, body going into a helpless spasm as he clenched on the roiling beads and then arched as his nipples were pulled which made the sound in him tug in reaction.

His brother’s arm went around his waist in support but Dean didn’t stop walking. “You can do this, Sammy. It’s not far... just a few more steps, ‘kay? Besides, you are reacting beautifully. ... think you can come without a hand on you cock now?”

Tears brimmed over his eyes at the stimulation as he shrugged helplessly, “I think so. I don’t –I don’t know.”

“Guess we’ll find out, huh?”

Sam swallowed as Dean walked him to a stop a few feet in front of the row of men and women.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you my boy, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes swung to his brother for a moment, unable to believe his ears but then Dean’s proprietary hand came to rest low on his back and he realized that it was not Dean being his usual smartass self, but actually staking claim over him. He thought back to the row of cowering subs in the other room and found himself flushing with how warm Dean’s words made him feel.

“He’s gorgeous,” A woman commented.

Sam ducked his head even lower shyly, subconsciously burrowing closer to his Dom.

“Is he well behaved?”

“Yes, he is... that’ not to say that he doesn’t make mistakes, but yes. He tries; I have to give him that.”

“Doesn’t look like he gets disciplined much,” A male voice observed.

“He doesn’t,” Dean admitted. “But he did book himself a punishment session just today morning.”

“Oh?”

“It was a genuine mistake, and I’m happy to report that he corrected his action on his own before I could even speak up; I figured a spanking session just to help him remember in future ought to do it.”

“Do you spank him a lot, Mr. Winchester?”

“Uh no... This will only be his second spanking since we came here.”

“Your reports mention that you’ve known each other all your lives, so would you say that this was a familiar punishment for your sub in his youth?”

“No. Not at all... He was an exceedingly well behaved kid. Always a straight ‘A’ student, he graduated with top honours, even won himself a full scholarship. He was involved in multiple school groups and was the darling of his teachers. Hell, he was the kid who liked vegetables! So no, growing up he was rarely if ever punished. And he was never spanked, not to my knowledge.”

“And yet his father enrolled him for the sub programme? There is no mention of an appeal on our records...”

Dean sighed, “His father was a travelling mechanic. ... He was not a bad man, but he had tragically lost his wife when Sammy here was just six months old and that loss... well, I’d say his sanity was questionable after that. He was of the belief that staying in one place would tempt fate and wanted Sam to join the ‘ _family businesses’._ Sam here had greater ambition than that and it angered his father. He thought having him trained as a sub would make him more agreeable to the life of a travelling mechanic.”

Sam stared at Dean, his jaw falling open as his brother spoke- he had never heard Dean speak ill of John Winchester, irrespective of what he did, but hearing the _regret_ in his voice now; Sam wondered how much of it had been real and how much Dean playing a peacemaker between two explosive Winchester tempers. He hoped Dean was angling to have their positions swapped, because he had been right the first time around: as hard as it was to submit, he would never survive forcing his brother into sex. Besides, Dean knew enough to safely manoeuvre the minefield that sex between two men was... he doubted he had the necessary skills to make the sexual aspects of their roles pleasurable the way his brother had.

“I’d like to see you spank him,” A new voice cut in after a moment’s silence.

“Of course,” Dean agreed, pulling him close and positioning him slightly to his front. Dean’s left hand wound itself in between his skin and the chain connecting his nipples to his cage and Sam swallowed the moan from the sensations. A gentle tug on the chain and he was gasping wantonly, body arching up into the gentle pull and then jerking back reflexively as the movement tugged at the beads stuffing his rear entrance.

Eyes closing as he tried to anchor himself despite the sensations swamping him, he was unprepared to feel Dean unhook the ‘skirt’ and remove it. His eyes flew open in surprise and he accidentally look straight at the people watching them. The approval in their eyes over the way Dean had trussed him up made him blush and he leaned back into the solid muscular form of his brother instinctively.

“You may use one of those chairs there,” Someone suggested and Sam discretely looked around for what was being spoken about.

The chairs were regular, but had a slight slope on the seat. Sam was puzzled about that till Dean pulled him over his knee and Sam realized that the slope meant his butt was raised higher, granting easier access to his tender ‘sit-spots’.

Dean’s right hand wormed itself between the chain and his skin and flattened itself over his sternum, bracing him as he bent awkwardly over his brother’s knees. It was a humiliating position, and yet given the choice he would pick this over bending over a table or other item every time... it made him wonder what it said about him that even in the middle of punishment, he was able to comfort in his brother’s proximity. Dean’s trousers felt rough against his sensitive skin and Sam blushed when he was adjusted till his genitals dangled between his brother’s thighs- the firm muscles hidden beneath the rough material of the canvas pants sheathing his dick and providing an added layer of unwanted friction.

“Do you wish to use an implement?”

Sam jumped at the question.

“No, I’d prefer my hands. Makes it more...  _intimate_ ,” Dean responded, petting him absently.

“Ready?”

Sam didn’t respond at first, assuming Dean had addressed the panel, but then the man’s free hand came to rub calming circles on his bare but cheeks and he realized with a start that Dean had actually asked him.

“You will get five hits,” Dean announced, speaking to Sam but addressing the room at large. “I’d like for you to count them if you can.”

He gripped Dean’s leg and gave a sharp nod to indicate he was ready, but in the next moment he was letting out a high sound as Dean’s battle hardened hands came into stinging contact with his unprotected rear. “O-One...” He breathed out shakily.

Dean’s right forefinger tugged lightly at the chain between his nipples in warning, “Aren’t you grateful that I’m making the effort to teach you, Kiddo?”

“Yes! Th- thank you, Master” Sam gritted out.

“Good boy,” Dean told him, but the next minute white hot agony had him nearly straightening and jumping away from his dominant’s hold.

“Two. Thank you, mah-master.” Sam wheezed out.

The third blow came without warning and then Dean’s thighs tightened around his dick to keep him in place. Sam bleated out a panicked wail at the warring sensations before managing to continue the count and thank his brother before arching up with a wordless scream as the hand came down again. The action set off his other bindings to move and then Sam was tearing up for a whole new reason.

“Count, Sammy.” Dean reminded.

“Four. Thank you, master...” Sam breathed out.

“Good boy,” His brother acknowledged, “Just the last one left. Ready?”

Sam wanted to shake his head no and escape the room, but it was an impossible dream and he gritted his teeth as he managed a silent nod.

His world went white as pain slammed into him at the last hit. Dean’s hand grazed the base of his tail plug and Sam couldn’t help his ear-splitting howl. He pressed his hips down, hoping for some friction and then, when the action jostled the sound, he lurched up; eyes widening as the beads inside grazed his prostate. His hips jerked back and forth in a helpless dance of mindless need and the movement tugged at his trapped nipples, making him thrust his chest out. That action made the chain between his collar and the beads snap taut and then there was a delicious pressure against his taxed rim.

It took everything in him to go still and then he lay frozen over Dean’s knees, mouth open as he panted through the maddening sensations swamping him till he got back enough breath to whisper the final count. “F-F-Fi-Five... th-thank you master for taking the time to correct this slave...”

Dean’s hands flattened over his spine for a fraction of a second- their wordless gesture to brace for impact and then he was yanked up and forced to his knees before the panel. His face splotchy with colour, Sam found himself unable to meet any of the many eyes trained on him; gasping as he tried to rein in his reactions.

Dean’s hands wound themselves into his hair and pulled his head up till he was looking at the smooth white of the ceiling. The movement tugged painfully on his cock-cage and Sam bleated out a small sound of pain, slumping when Dean undid the clasp and eased the awkward contortion of his muscles. Dean pressed up behind him and Sam gratefully leaned his weight against his older brother. He parted his knees with a blush when prompted and then breathed open-mouth as the sound was eased out.

Dean’s hands dipped between his legs and messaged his full sacs and Sam stared helplessly at the ceiling as the action only served to arouse him more.

“And now...” Dean announced to the room at large, while his finger plucked skilfully at Sam’s captive nipples.

“You can come anytime,” Dean breathed into his ear, voice soft enough that only Sam heard him.

“Thank you, Master...” Sam gasped, body moving restlessly as Dean’s fingers pinched and tugged and stroked over his skin.

“Spread you legs wider, Sammy.”

Sam had given up on breathing through his nose, gasping in much-needed gulps of oxygen through an open mouth even as his chest heaved and head lolled on Dean’s shoulder. It took him all his strength to make his uncooperative legs do his bidding and spread his knees wider till the stretch burned his muscles.

“Good boy. Now, arms around me, please.”

Sam obeyed eagerly, audience forgotten as he raised his hands and wrapped them around his brother, fingers trying and failing to bury themselves in the short spiky hair as he tried to pull the older man in for a kiss. Dean chuckled against his lips, and then two things happened simultaneously: His brother’s clever fingers yanked out the anal beads in one swift yank and soft lips pressed against his own as words were smeared between them, “Come for me, Sammy.”

Sam found himself obeying on reflex, vision whiting out as his orgasm erupted without warning. He was faintly aware of someone cradling him close and gathering him in as he slumped in a boneless heap. There was a slight pressure at his rim as the last bead slipped out and his over-worked penis dribbled tiredly at the stimulation. Sam just let his eyes slip closed and allowed all his weight to rest on the big brother who had never let him fall.

It was a full five minutes before he had the strength to open his eyes and then he was turning a deep shade of red as he realized that this group of strangers had just witnessed him come undone in his brother’s arms. Something soft and wet touched his skin and he looked down to realize that Dean had taken it upon himself to clean him up. “Thank you,” He whispered, giving his brother a lop-sided but tired smile, still running high on the endorphins flooding his system.

“Think you can stand?” Dean murmured back.

Sam shook his head without hesitation, “Need a few more minutes.”

“That’s fine. Take all the time you need, Sweetheart. You were amazing! Thank you for giving me this.”

Sam hummed and half-turned in his brother’s embrace, burying his face against a familiar shoulder. “Love you,”

Dean’s arms came up to give him a quick hug, “Love you too, kiddo. Now relax, I’ve got you.”

Sam nodded and closed his eyes- _Dean could deal with their audience as he saw fit_.

 

 

Sam’s languor was all but gone by the time they made it back to their cell.

“Okay. Out with it.” Dean demanded once the door had been closed behind them. “What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing,”

“I thought we didn’t lie to each other anymore.”

Sam sighed, “Nothings bothering me... its more like... I’ve got a request?”

Dean nodded, “Alright, let’s hear it then.”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Still want to hear it,”

“Okay,” Sam nodded; took a breath, held it for a moment and then exhaled noisily. When he looked up, his eyes were determined, “I want you to fuck me.”


	14. Chapter 14

Dean met Sam’s declaration with a loud guffaw, but then as Sam’s visage stayed unsmiling, the laughter slowly petered out until he was serious as well, and “You’re not kidding, are you?”

“No,”

Dean nodded, glanced around the room once before meeting Sam’s gaze again, “No.”

“What on earth do you mean by ‘no’?!”

“You’ve been to college, Sammy and I’m sure you’ve read all about consent and stuff there... Do I really have to explain what ‘no’ means?”

“Dean- _Dude..._ that’s exactly why _I_ told you that I want you to fuck me. I’m consenting... You never asked or even mentioned fucking, so there’s no coercion.”

“Consent from all involved parties is necessary for a sex-act not to be assault, Sammy.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, _I_ do not consent, Sammy.”

“Dean... you’ll not be hurting me or abusing me or whatever you’re thinking, okay? I’m okay with this.”

“Did you by any chance listen in on what the panel was discussing with the doms?”

“No, and don’t change the subject.”

“I’m not. And I’m serious. You really have no clue about what was discussed?”

Sam furrowed his brows, “No, why?”

“So this sudden desire to let your older brother take your anal virginity has nothing to do with what transpired today?”

Sam blushed a little at Dean’s words but shook his head, “Well... it is, but not the way you’re thinking.”

“No?”

Sam shook his head again, looking down as he framed his response and was suddenly excruciatingly aware of the dried spunk smeared on his skin. He couldn’t fathom how Dean could look him in the eye despite how incredibly dirty he was, standing in his dishevelled state before his big brother. A part of him wished he could cover himself from those perceptive eyes and his fingers twitched as he tried to keep from shielding the depravity of his state from him even as he persevered to meet Dean’s eyes and continue their conversation. “I promise Dean. This has nothing to do with- with my _performance_ today.”

Green eyes didn’t miss the ruthlessly tamped tremble and the older Winchester shook his head at his sibling’s obstinacy. “Very well, let’s say I believe you. ... My answer is still no, Sammy. You’re not ready for that yet... I-I’m not saying no,alright? Just- just... _not yet._ I dare say I will be ... uh, ‘ _doing the dirty’_ with you before long but _please_ don’t ask that of me right this minute, okay?” There was a seconds pause and then Dean was pivoting on his heels as he turned and headed towards the cell’s ‘bathroom’ region, “Anyway, c’mon now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Sam fumed at the abrupt end to their discussion as he followed Dean into the shower cubicle, arms automatically rising and fingers cross-linking behind his head in the expected position. The shower water was a shock to his system, but once he got used to the spray, it wasn’t quite as bad. Dean lathered the wash-cloth and cleaned him briskly while taking care not to be too harsh on the soiled, sensitive skin of his genitals. He closed his eyes as his brother carefully cleaned his front before guiding him down to his knees. There was a light pressure on his shoulders and Sam obeyed the wordless command, bending forward and bracing himself on his fore-arms. A warm palm pushed between his shoulder blades till he lowered his torso even more, his forehead resting on the wet tiles as his butt went up in the air because of his position. Dean pushed his knees further apart and Sam trembled as he found himself baring his most intimate opening once again.

Careful fingers dipped into the crevice between his butt cheeks and Sam held himself perfectly still as he was meticulously cleaned down there. After the parade of butt-plugs and the day’s earlier events, his hole felt swollen and gaping... still, when Dean dipped his fingers into the warm hole to clean out the lubrication, Sam couldn’t help but push into the touch _\- having grown to crave the ‘full’ feeling_. He felt mortified by his own actions, but it felt too good to resist.

He jumped when there was a clang against the bars of their cell, head rising off his folded hands and beginning to turn automatically in response before he caught himself. Dean stopped the shower, but left him on the tiled floor as he went to answer the guard’s summons.

“Saved you the largest one,”

Sam shivered at the guard’s nasal voice, fighting his every instinct to hold his pose and look back to satiate his curiosity.

“Oh, ummm... thank you,” Dean murmured awkwardly.

Sam barely held back from snorting at the obvious discomfort in his brother’s voice.

“You don’t know what to do with it, do you?” The nasally voice asked with audible amusement.

“Uh...No?”

Sam bit his lip to hold in his snigger.

“This will help to tighten your sub again... Put it in him and enjoy him dancing for a few minutes and lo-behold, your sub’s virgin tight again! After all, what’s the fun in ploughing a lose hole, ay?”

Sam paled, all amusement disappearing as he realized that Dean was being offered some new device to hurt him. Suddenly, the wet tiles were swimming before his eyes and he was trembling almost violently. He didn’t hear the rest of the conversation or the guard’s footsteps fade away as Dean approached him again.

If his brother noticed his teary face, he didn’t comment on it; continuing to clean him in silence and drying him with the same ruthless energy that he had used while cleaning. He waited for the plug- _or whatever new device the guard had ‘gifted’,_ to be slid back into his gaping hole.  After the months of being constantly plugged he was feeling horrifically naked without it in, but long minutes passed and nothing happened.

He held position for a few more minutes before chancing a peek behind him, “Dean?”

“Right here, Sammy.”

He relaxed back on the floor at his brother’s voice and then pliantly allowed himself to be escorted to the bed when Dean came for him. For an interminable minute Dean perched on the side of the bed and simply ran his fingers through Sam’s moist hair but then rose and retrieved something from the toy cabinet.

“You know what this is?”

Sam peered at the ugly yellow thing in his brother’s hand. It suspiciously resembled a dildo and yet didn’t look like any dildo or plug that Sam had used so far. He reached out to touch it but hesitated before making contact, glancing at his dominant for permission.

“Good boy,” Dean smiled, “You may touch it.”

Trembling fingers reached out to feel the material and he glanced at Dean in surprise when it felt like the thing was made of some organic material. It felt horribly familiar, but Sam couldn’t place it for the life of him. “What is it?”

“It’s a hand of ginger... I got rid of the extra fingers and carved it so that it would be easier to insert,”

“Insert?” Sam repeated dumbly before understanding dawned. His eyes widened as he looked sharply at his Dom, “Seriously? You’re going to put that inside me?!”

Dean nodded, “It’s called _figging_ from what I understand. Burns something fierce, but doesn’t cause any actual damage. In fact, its antiseptic properties are good to get rid of any preliminary infection. It does cause some inflammation, but it’s minor and helps to keep the sub tight and appealing.”

Sam nodded his understanding, eyes fearfully peering at the object of his impending doom.

“Ready?”

Sam nodded; mouth too dry to respond verbally.

“Okay then, turn over.”

Sam obeyed without thought, and then spread his legs in a practised motion.

“Okay, here goes...”

Sam held his breath as the plug wormed its way inside his rear orifice. It felt huge and unfamiliar but there was no pain, his body used to accepting similarly sized intrusions... it was a few minutes before he realized why there was nothing ‘familiar’ about the ginger. He shifted slightly as a slow heat spread through his body.

“Breathe...”

Sam obeyed, breathing through his open mouth as the heat turned into a low level burn with the epicentre being one of the most sensitive places on his body. “Burns,”

“I know it does, Sweetheart.” Dean murmured, stretching out next to him and hugging him close. “Just breathe through it, alright?

Sam tried, he really did; but it felt like an open flame was being held inside his asshole and before long he was a fidgeting mess.

The burn took up all his thought and Sam shifted restlessly on the bed. Dean’s arms tightened around him, holding him in place as the organic plug flambéed his insides.

“Sshhh.... I’ve got you, Sammy. Just hold on, okay?”

He sniffled, rubbing his wet nose against the flannel of his brother’s shirt, breath hitching at how badly the ginger was burning his sensitive inside. “Take it out, pl-please... hurts, De. Hurts so bad...”

“I know it hurts,” Dean admitted. “And I’m so sorry ‘bout it Kiddo... but you have to just hold on, okay? It’ll get better in a little while.”

Sam smothered his moans against his brother’s shoulder as he tried to spread his legs wider in the hopes of easing the burn.

“Deep breaths, Kiddo.” Dean coached, “In... one-two-three and out, one-two-three. Very good ... Once more, inhale one-two-three and exhale, three-two-one. You’re doing so good, Sammy.”

Sam sobbed, gasping as he obeyed the breathing technique and whimpering when he inadvertently clenched and started the burn anew.

“Still hurting?” Dean asked, hand winding itself into his luscious locks, now sweaty with strain.

He nodded, whimpering pitifully as he endeavoured to bury himself closer to his brother.

“I’m so sorry, Kiddo... but you’re doing so good, okay? I’m proud of you. Just a little bit longer, okay? Deep breaths.”

And so it continued till the burn went down to bearable levels. Dean’s fingers wormed their way between his butt-cheeks and Sam hissed as the rough hewn organic plug was eased out. For an interminable minute nothing happened, but then Dean’s forehead came to rest against the top of his head.

“I’m sorry,”

“Not your fault, I know the guard asked you to do this.” Sam whispered, voice cracking from his dry mouth.

“No, not that; but yes... I’m sorry about that as well.”

He peered up through wet eyes more blue than green, “Then why-?”

“It’s not over yet, Sammy... I’ll be re-inserting the ginger...”

“No!”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“No, please... Dean. I’m sorry for asking you to fuck me. Okay? I’m sorry. I’ll not question you again. I’m sorry!”

“Oh, Kiddo...” Dean whispered.

Sam shrank back from his touch, eyes wide and betrayed as he stared up at his brother.

“Don’t!”

The sharpness of the command had him freezing. “Dean-?”

“Don’t- don’t try to escape, alright? You already survived it once. I’ll be reinserting the same piece, so hopefully it should hurt less... and Sammy,” He leaned closer to whisper the rest: “If they think you’re trying to escape me, I’ll have to tie you up and give you two pieces of ginger.”

“Two?”

“A plug and a sound...”

Sam’s eyes widened, “You’re going to stuff it in my dick?!”

“Not unless you try to escape,”

Sam swallowed convulsively. “I’ll hold still.”

“Good boy. Gimme a minute, ‘kay? I’ll be right back.”

Sam watched through wet lashes as Dean washed the carved root of ginger and returned to the bed. Instead of making him turn over again, Dean settled between his widespread legs. He had Sam fold his right leg and plant it firmly on the mattress and put the other over his shoulder, opening him up. The plug felt even bigger against his sore opening than it had the first time. Sam screwed his eyes shut as Dean worked it in with tiny corkscrewing motions.

This time the burn came back much faster, but Sam held still; silent tears leaking from his clenched eyes and disappearing into his hairline. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that before Dean extracted the organic plug and tossed it to the waste-bin. He waited to be plugged, dreading the feel of implacable silicone against his swollen insides and was pleasantly surprised when Dean left him unplugged.

“You’ve had a long day, Kiddo. Rest now.”

“You?”

“I’ll be here,” Dean promised as the lights dimmed.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> be warned about a graphic scene of vomiting and descriptions of self-mutilation (not carried out, just discussed) in this chapter. So if that's triggery (or gross/disgusting), please skip this chapter. The next chapter will have the usual suspects so you (will hopefully) be fine... I mean, you did choose to read this fic, so.

Sam wasn’t sure what had awoken him and he blinked around blearily trying to figure out what had pulled him from sleep. It took him a few moments to realize that Dean was stiff and rigid next to him. Frowning, he pushed himself up on an elbow to regard his brother and noticed with relief that his chest was still moving up and down with the motion of his lungs, it was slightly erratic- like he had just returned from a run instead of the peaceful one of sleep but the most worrying aspect were the silent tear tracks that started at his eyes and disappeared into the hair at his temples. The older Winchester’s lips were clenched and every muscle was taut with distress, and yet not a sound escaped the man.

For a moment he could only marvel at how different they were when it came to nightmares: while Dean went quiet as a (non-haunted) grave, Sam was just the opposite. Sam couldn’t stop his grin as he thought of his own nightmares and how dramatically loud they were- they had even been kicked out of a motel once in the weeks immediately following Jessica’s death with how loud he had screamed. In contrast, Dean’s nightmares were predominantly silent; in fact, he had never woken to his brother having one until Dean got back from Hell. Those nightmares had distressed Dean enough to rouse Sam (or if he was honest, he’d noticed them when he’d returned to their motel-room after sneaking around with Ruby). Shaking his head, he regarded his sibling again as he contemplated the wisdom of shaking him awake: Dean was notoriously risky to rouse from slumber. In the outside world he slept with either his blade or his gun (sometimes both) under his pillow and was liable to shoot/slash first and talk later. He wasn’t armed in here, but he was a lethal combatant and Sam might just find himself being strangled on the floor before the older man was fully awake... It was a risk he was prepared to accept but what caught his attention and distracted him though, was how _beautiful_ Dean looked. He remembered how an especially chatty demon he had captured back when Dean had been in hell (and he’d been hunting with Ruby) had sounded half in love with the man when it had likened the older Winchester with the _Saints of old_ with how ‘beautifully’ he suffered. It had gone on to describe how Dean acted like he deserved each stroke of the whip and parry of the blade as he burned in Hell. Sam had killed the demon before he could continue to sing paeans in Dean’s praise.

Looking at Dean now, at how obviously the older man was suffering but was still so hushed made his heart hurt something fierce: he would never understand why Dean believed he needed to suffer. That wasn’t quite right, he thought with a shake of his head. He knew the ‘ _Why’_ perfectly well: John Winchester had indoctrinated his five-year old son into believing that he shouldered the blame for the entire world. When Sam had been younger (okay, he’d been a baby), Dean had been scolded every time Sam fussed because he was hungry/cranky/needed a diaper change... when he’d been slightly older, it had still fallen on Dean to ensure he didn’t get into their father’s things. It had also been the 5-6-7 year old _child’s_ job to ensure that nothing belonging to Sam or him got left behind. He couldn’t remember how old he’d been at the time, but he remembered his plushie had gotten left behind during one of their many moves. And even though they had still been in the same town, only eating at the diner down the street from where they had stayed, their father had refused to go back and retrieve the much loved toy. Sam had, not surprisingly, cried and he still remembered that he had only stopped crying when Dean had given him his own prized army-men figurines. It was only when he looked back on the incident through adult eyes that he realized what a sacrifice it must have been for the six-seven year old who didn’t have any other toy to his name apart from those precious figurines that had survived the burning of their house in Lawrence.

Sighing, he cautiously flattened his palm against his brother’s chest.

There was no shock or gasp or anything... Dean’s eyes snapped open at the contact all at once and Sam tried and failed to smile encouragingly.

“Did I wake you? I’m sorry...” His brother murmured; voice heavy with sleep.

Sam shook his head immediately, “No. You didn’t wake me. It’s fine.”

Dean tried to lever himself up so that he was leaning up against the headboard, “Can’t sleep?”

Sam shrugged.

“Does- does it still-” Dean licked his lips, glancing guiltily up at him once before focusing on where he fingers were playing with the edge of the afghan, “Does it still burn?”

“Burn?” Sam asked blankly.

“You know...” Dean’s cheek’s turned an appealing shade of pink as he explained, “from the ginger?”

“What?  Oh... uh, no. Thank God for that.”

Dean smiled hesitantly, echoing: “Yeah, thank God.”

“What were you having a nightmare about?”

“Who said it was a nightmare?”

Sam just shot him his most unimpressed look.

“It’s...” Dean chuckled at his expression but his eyes were nervous, “It’s nothing.”

Sam snorted, “Yeah right.”

It was times like these that he missed the curse they had entangled with a few months back. Well, Dean had been the one cursed. ... In hindsight, maybe Sam should have thanked the witch instead of confiscating her stuff. It was one of the rare curses that were not painful or fatal (Dean might contest that assessment since he thought the curse made him ‘vulnerable’ because it allowed people to get a better insight into the cursed individual by making them visualize a glow-y cartoon heart right over where his real one was). Sam had been shocked to speechlessness the first time he’d set eyes on the ravaged little organ. Even the witch had seemed to be taken aback by how scarred Dean’s heart was. Dean, who couldn’t see it himself, had snapped at him to get moving and Sam had only managed to reach out and place a hand over the scarred little organ. His brother wouldn’t have realized what had happened if not for that misstep and till date Sam blamed himself for not having thought through his action that day before he’d touched Dean.

 He’d dragged his feet on finding the cure so much that his brother had taken it upon himself to do the necessary research... and though he could no longer visualize Dean’s ‘heart’, he could still remember its damaged beauty perfectly: the little thing had gleamed like the sun (or a particularly grotesque Halloween decoration) at the most innocuous things- a cheeseburger, a slice of pie, the smile of a cute server and most unbelievably, when Sam ate what had been put before him. He knew he had scared his brother with his loss of appetite during the trials, but he had not realized the extent of his sibling’s worry till he had seen the almost blinding glow of his ‘heart’ whenever Sam ate three square meals a day. And as easy as it was to make the little heart ‘happy’ and ‘glow-y’ it was easier still to make it twist and bleed. Sam had crumpled to his knees when he’d realized that Dean’s expression had never wavered nor his smile flickered even as his metaphorical heart bled. He didn’t remember what had caused Dean the hurt that first time, but it had been nothing more than a throwaway statement during one of their more casual arguments. Watching the ruby red beads of blood welling up from a fresh cut on the scarred little ‘organ’ in his brother’s chest even as the man continued as though Sam’s thoughtless words had not hurt him was what had driven him to his knees. He had burst into loud, ugly sobs meaningless words of apology spilling from his lips as his guilt at hurting his brother overcame him. It was this reaction that had spurred Dean to hasten his search for a cure... Till date he had been unable to confide to Dean that it wasn’t the fact that he had hurt the older man that had brought Sam to his knees, it was the sudden knowledge that Dean had continued their conversation and gone right on acting like his literal heart wasn’t being torn to shreds.

He wriggled closer to his brother on the narrow bed, “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know I own you.” Dean had returned harshly, but Sam could hear the underlying guilt easily.

“Seriously?” Sam ground out incredulously, determined not to let his sibling wallow in unnecessary guilt. “You really want to go there?”

Dean sighed and rubbed his face wearily, “I’m sorry.”

“Damn right you should be.”

“Fine,” Dean ground out with a weak smile as he conceded the argument. He tucked Sam more firmly against his side before confessing, “T’was about what the council discussed today.”

“O-kay... and?”

“Sammy, they’ll let us out of here if you voluntarily submit to full penetrative sex with me.” Dean whispered hollowly, “I honestly don’t know if the better choice is staying in here and chipping away at you in small increments or doing the worst thing I ever could to you. ... I mean, at least you’ll be free then, right? You’ll have to live with your rapist but yeah... you’ll be out there... And I-... it’s a bad choice and a worse choice and I just can’t figure out which is which. I don’t know what to do, Sammy... I just don’t know what to do.”

“Sshhh...” Sam soothed, flattening his palm against Dean’s heaving chest, and “You’re okay.  _We_ are okay, I promise.”

“Sam...”

“I’m here,” He reassured, rubbing his finger in little circles in an effort to soothe. “Calm down. ... I’m not hurt or offended or betrayed or any of the things you are picturing, okay? We are okay. I promise.”

“What do I do, Sammy?” Dean whispered in a small voice.

“What do you want to do?”

“Anything but what they are expecting me to do,” Dean responded immediately. “I mean, I’d let them make salami out of my dick if it meant I won’t have to do that to you, Sammy. I’m _that_ desperate!”

Sam felt bile rise up his throat at the imagery the words conjured up in his mind and vaulted over Dean’s supine form to rush to the bathroom. He heaved over the commode, spitting out string-y lines of bile as his insides tried to turn themselves inside out.

“Hush... easy,” A gentle palm cupped his forehead, holding back his hair. A moment later a glass of water appeared in his sight, “Here, rinse your mouth.”

Sam obeyed and spat the foul mix back into the toilet bowl before flushing it.

“Drink, it’ll help.” Dean refilled the glass and offered it back to him, “You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning. You’re probably running on fumes and dehydrated.”

Sam made a face at his brother before dry-retching one last time and straightening.

“Drink,” Dean offered the re-filled glass of water again. “I’ll see if they have crackers or ginger-ale.”

“You think I threw up because of an upset stomach?”

“Well, that and the knowledge of what’s going to happen. ... I can’t do anything about the latter, so I’m trying to help with the former?” Dean explained gently.

“I threw up because you told me you’d let someone cut your dick into tiny little pieces!” Sam snapped.

Dean’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Dean...” Sam sighed, “Why are you always so _eager_ to make the sacrifice-play, huh? Even when it’s not required?”

“Not required?” Dean whispered incredulously.

Sam smiled sadly at his brother, “It’s not required. I told you I consent, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but-”

“But what?!”

“It’s inevitable, Sammy. It’s going to happen, irrespective of whether or not I have your consent. ... It’s just, there are two choices. And like I said... it’s bad and worse... I-I told you the options. You haven’t told me which one you’d prefer,” Dean whispered.

“Which one do you prefer?”

“ _Neither of them_! I don’t want to do this at all, Sammy...and I-... I just don’t know,” The older brother shrugged, “That’s why I’m asking you!”

Sam smiled. “Okay, fine. ... Can you walk me through the pros and cons of each choice?”

Dean swallowed convulsively, blanching at the unappealing task proposed but stepped up to what was required of him with a nod. “Yeah, okay.”

“We can do this in the morning too... there’s no hurry, Dean.” The younger sibling assured, rising from where he’d been leaning against the glass partition of the ‘bathroom’ and heading back towards the bed.  He smiled when Dean followed him and slid in next to him, tucking himself against his side in a role-reversal that warmed his heart.

“No, I’m- I’m okay. Let’s do this.”

Sam smiled gently at his brother, “Okay,”

“If- if I...” Dean trailed off, glancing hesitantly at his brother. Sam nodded at him encouragingly. “If we wait, then things will escalate gradually. I will have to continue our training and yeah... it seems like a sure-fire way to trigger Stockholm.”

“And the other option?” Sam asked.

“I rape you,” Dean whispered, voice barely audible.

“It’ll not be rape, Dean. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“You won’t have the option to refuse, Sammy...”

“Yes, but I don’t _want_ to refuse.”

Dean glanced at him before lowering his head again.

“You’re giving me the choice, right? You’ll go with whichever option I’ll choose?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Good, then I choose option B.”

Dean’s head shot up, “You mean it?”

Sam nodded.

“I’ll try to make it good,” Dean whispered.

“I know you will,” Sam reassured.

“I hate putting you through this, Sammy.”

“I know,” He told his brother, tightening his arm around the older man as he felt him trembling. “I’m glad to have you, Dean. You have to know that. There’s no one else I trust more or want with me as my _owner,”_

Dean shook his head, refusing to look up and meet his eyes, “I don’t deserve your trust, not after what I’m going to do to you...”

“Dean,” Sam shook his brother, “You’re the best man I know. ... And even if I were free, you’re the one I pick.”

“I’ll be taking your anal virginity,” Dean snapped.

Sam narrowed his eyes in confusion, “That is what sex means, Dean.”

“No, I- ... You have to be the... well, the ‘bottom’ in the scenario. I can’t be the one being penetrated. I asked.”

Sam felt his heart warm at the thought that Dean had even thought to ask.

“I’m so sorry, Sammy. ... It’s not necessary to be the one on ... well, on ‘top’ so to speak, to be dominating. But these idiots don’t believe in any other way... I’m truly sorry to put you in this position.”

Sam felt his eyes widen in understanding- while Dean had taken on the dominant’s role, he had never intended to let Sam bottom. “That had been your plan all along, hadn’t it? To top from the bottom?”

Dean shrugged, “I figured that way would be less intrusive,”

Sam pressed his lips to the older man’s forehead in an impulsive kiss. “Thank you!”

Dean raised a disbelieving eyebrow, “I just told you my plan failed-”

“No, I know. I mean, thank you caring so much, Dean. ... I had not even considered that there might be another way. And it’s okay, I promise you.”

“Okay...” Dean took a fortifying breath, “Sammy, I need to know just one thing before I tell the guards,”

“Sure, what is it?”

“Do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me? I-I mean, I know that it’s asking a lot... but I need to know that it’s a possibility at least, however slim the chances.”

“There’s nothing to forgive Dean,” Sam told the man, but seeing the disappointed expression, hurried to amend, “But if there is, I _know-I know beyond a shadow of doubt_ that I’ll forgive you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A relatively tame chapter (by the standards of this fic), I know... but its an important discussion about consent which has turned out to be the core issue of this story. I promise the next chapter will have more... 'stuff'.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the chapter you guys have been waiting for... *winks*

Chapter- 16

Sam froze as he took in the clinical looking, sterile room where the ‘ceremony’ was supposed to take place. It felt like minutes instead of the full day that it was since he had told Dean about his choice, and here they were. It made him nervous. For some reason the clinical surroundings made him hyperconscious of his nudity and he shrank back against Dean, heart thumping loudly as he looked around and noticed the circular gallery over-head and the array of giant screens that would no doubt be displaying close-ups of his and Dean’s activities.

“Impala,”

Time seemed to freeze around them as he whispered out his safe-word.

“Dean, Impala.”

His brother’s face was without expression, “I heard.”

“It’s my safe-word,”

“I know,” Dean responded in the same bland tones. “I remember.”

“You have to pause! It’s my safe-word! Dean, please.”

He didn’t want to believe that his brother would ignore his word- _their word_. He couldn’t let himself believe it... but as Dean stood motionless next to him he felt tears brim over his eyes, “Dean?”

“It’s too late now, Sammy. I can’t stop things from running their course even if I wanted to.”

“Not stop... but pause? Please? I just- I just need a minute or two.”

Dean glanced at him for a moment before nodding, “Okay, I can give you five minutes. No more.”

Sam offered a hesitant smile, “Thanks.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, “Uh... why’re you still here? Don’t you want your five minutes?”

“You’re not coming?” Sam asked in a small voice.

“You want me to?”

He nodded fervently, “Yes, I need my dom with me. Please.”

“Okay.” Dean swallowed and glanced around once, “Okay, C’mon.”

The moment they were away from the spotlight, Sam wrapped his arms around his brother’s waist and buried his face against his shoulder. Dean’s arms automatically came up to cradle him and Sam felt the panic that had been building up inside him snap like a popped bubble. “Thank you,”

Dean didn’t respond and Sam pulled back slightly to peer into reddened eyes, “Dean?”

“I failed you,” The older Winchester whispered, his expression devastated.

“ _What?!”_

“You safe-worded and I can’t stop the scene... I’m so- _so_ -sorry, Sammy.”

“Hey-hey-hey... I didn’t want you to _stop_ anything Dean. I just needed a moment’s breather. That’s it. And you gave that to me, big brother. You didn’t fail anyone!”

“Didn’t I? ... You- you don’t want this, Sammy... And I-”

“I want it,” Sam interrupted. “I promise that I want this, okay? It’s just... I expected it to be slightly more low-key, you know? So I-”

“Panicked,” Dean filled in for him.

Sam smiled sheepishly, “Yeah. I know I had no reason to. I’m sorry for freaking you out,”

“It’s your first time, Sammy. And it _is_ kind of a big deal... you have every reason to panic,”

“It’s you and me, Dean. What is there to panic? I mean, I- I trust you.”

“How? How can you still trust me when in a few short minutes I’ll be taking something from you that I can never give back?”

“Dude, it’s sex. It’s not all that earth-shattering!”

“It’s not just _sex_ , Sammy. I’ll be taking your virginity-”

“And I can’t think of a better man to share it with,” Sam cut in.

Dean blinked; speechless for once.

Sam smiled at is brother and leaned forward to chastely brush his lips against the older man’s. “I trust you, okay? I promise. And I want this.”

“So... ready to head back in there?”

“As long as I have you by my side, Dean; I’ll be ready to head anywhere.”

Dean couldn’t stop himself from cracking an honest smile at the cheesiness of Sam’s words, “Sap!”

“Jerk!” Sam threw back.

Dean took his hand and led him back into the room, voice low enough to only be heard by Sam as he whispered, “Bitch.”

There was a sterile white bed in the centre of the room and Dean led him straight towards it, “On your back, arms above your head,”

Sam climbed up gingerly, once again aware of the many eyes on him, but working to calm his racing heartbeat.

“Eyes on me, Kiddo”

His eyes snapped to his brother instinctively at the command and he felt himself exhale once his eyes locked on warm green: _Dean was here._

“Better?” Dean whispered as walked around to the head of the bed, bending at the waist to give him an upside-down kiss. Sam nodded but wrinkled his nose: upside down kisses were nowhere as sexy in real life as in the movies. His fingers twitched to grab at Dean and align them properly but didn’t want to risk disobeying the man… _but he desperately wanted to gather his brother into his arms and pull him closer._ His brother apparently guessed his intentions because he added to his order, “Don’t move your hands till I give you permission, alright?”

Sam rolled his eyes and pouted up at his brother in voiceless complaint, “Yes, Dean.”

“Good boy, so perfect for me…” Dean whispered, disregarding his pout. “Need you to present for me, Kiddo.”

Sam furrowed his brow, legs twitching as he started to turn over when a warm palm flattened itself over his sternum.

“Not like that. … Just- just spread your legs and plant your feet on the footrests, ‘kay?”

Sam obeyed and jumped when he felt someone touch his inner-thighs to spread them wider apart. When he started to instinctively peer downwards to see what was happening, Dean’s hands curved around his cheeks and held his face immobile. “Don’t look, Sammy,”

“Dean?”

“They are just here to check on you. I’ll start once they clear you for … well, you know for what.”

“They’ll not stay?” Sam whispered, peering up at his brother intently even as he was aware of a dark shape moving between his legs.

“No,”

“Okay,” Sam acquiesced. Dean smiled sadly down at him and Sam tried to smile back confidently. Something the person did pinched at his tender skin and Sam flinched but strived to smoothen his expression so as to not worry Dean.

“Okay?” Dean checked.

“Okay,” Sam breathed out. Then, “Hurts,”

Dean’s eyes narrowed and he glanced down, lips thinning at whatever he saw before turning back to Sam, “Another minute, alright? Just hold on,”

Dean placed his hands over Sam’s and the younger Winchester instantly tangled their fingers together. Sam nodded.

“So good for me… so perfect, Sammy.” Dean whispered, “I’ll make it upto you, alright? I promise.”

Sam swallowed reflexively, relaxing when he felt the other’s hands leaving his skin. “Okay, I’m good.”

“Yes, you are,” Dean returned. “Best, actually”

Sam snorted at the corniness of the dialogue, “Seriously? Who are you and what have you done to my brother?!”

Dean guffawed before leaning back in for another kiss. This wasn’t chaste like the others; this kiss was like Dean _meant it_. His tongue teased at the partition of Sam’s lips and swept in the moment they parted, tracing the interiors of the younger Winchester’s mouth and playfully entangling with his tongue.

Sam was flushed and panting by the time they parted. Despite the shortage of oxygen, Sam leaned upwards, chasing instinctively after Dean’s lips when the older man pulled back. His brother just smirked at his reaction and walked around the side of the table to nip teasingly at his nipples which hardened into pebble-hard nubs at the contact. Dean laved attention upon the needy little buds and Sam arched his back to give the man better access, whining in disappointed frustration when the man moved lower, licking a meandering path right down to his navel. Till that moment Sam hadn’t thought his navel to be particularly sensitive and definitely not sexual, but Dean’s kitten licks were changing his opinion. Dean moved lower along what would have been his treasure trail if he’d still had his body hair and Sam widened the spread of his legs in anticipation. Hesitantly, Dean raised his hand again, and Sam noticed that they were shaking, and when his thighs were touched this time, Sam could feel how the palm was calloused and clammy where it skated upwards and across Sam’s sides to his buttocks. The callused hands grabbed and lifted him slightly; spreading him open as Dean shouldered his way between the splayed legs. Sam didn’t notice when Dean lathered up his fingers in lubricant, chest heaving as he panted from the sharp upward spike of arousal as Dean worked his magic. His breath caught as there was the muted snick of a bottle opening/closing and then there was the feel of hands over his perineum. Sam twitched restlessly and froze at the feel of Dean’s middle finger against his hole—

“This okay?”

“Yeah. Yes. Yes.”

Dean pressed in slowly, carefully and even with his eyes closed, Sam was aware of his brother’s scrutiny, of the fact that he was watching his face. Sam winced a little, but stayed quiet until Dean prompted: “Sammy?”

“It’s—it’s not bad. It doesn’t really hurt all that much... it’s just... _weird,_ I guess, but it’s—” He broke off with a gasp, furrowing his eyebrows and grinding down onto Dean’s hand. “Shit, that felt good. Again, please! ... That’s—oh, god, what _is_ that?”

Dean chuckled softly at his babbling, “I think we just located your prostate, Sammy,”

“Do that again, right now,” Sam demanded, forcing his knees further apart so as to give Dean more room to work.

Dean’s hand stilled. For long minutes nothing happened and Sam reluctantly peeled his eyes open to peer down the length to his body at Dean.

“Do not _ever_ order me again.” Dean growled.

Sam could clearly see how fake the anger was, but Dean’s expression was worried and he understood the fragility of their situation far too well. “I’m sorry, Master. I forgot my place... it- it felt so good. It’ll not happen again. I’m sorry, please forgive me?”

Some of the fear relaxed from Dean’s expression and the man nodded, “Good boy,”

“I really am sorry, master... I- I didn’t mean to order you.”

“I believe you,”

He heard Sam let out a soft sigh at his words, eyes closing again even as his hands fisted the sheets. Dean stopped in his tracks, worried he had messed up. But when Sam slowly opened his eyes to lock his gaze with Dean's and arched his chest in wordless plea; Dean smiled, understanding what his brother wanted. He stretched upwards and kissed Sam's neck as he ran his free hand along Sam's chest, brushing his fingers over his brother’s pebbled nipples. It earned him a soft gasp, making Dean smirk.

"Feel good, Sammy?" Dean whispered Sam's ear, voice low enough to not catch on any of the numerous microphones in the room. Sam nodded, his breathing shaky.

Eventually, Dean admitted to himself that he had delayed as much as he could and lined himself up, slowly pushing the head in carefully. 

Sam whimpered, clearly not liking the strange feeling.

 "Do you need me to stop?" Dean asked, concerned.

Sam shook his head and bit his tongue to keep the pained noises in- Dean was not a small man and despite the careful prep, it hurt considerably. Dean very carefully pushed the rest of the way in and stilled his movements, giving Sam as much time as he needed to adjust. He gasped when he looked down, seeing a noticeable bulge in Sam's lower stomach. He put a curious hand on it, tracing the outline of the bulge with a feather-light finger.

"Feel that, Sammy?" He breathed.

Sam nodded, he didn’t need Dean to tell him that he was filled to the brim. After giving him another minute to adjust, Dean began to thrust slowly, watching as the bulge disappeared and came back. Sam gasped, throwing his head back against the pillow.

“Hurts?”

Dean asked as he paused his movements.

“N-no... its okay. Keep moving.” Sam managed to respond, trying not to give away that he was in pain despite Dean’s careful preparations. He gasped as Dean found that spot inside him again that had made him see stars- it made the sensations considerably more pleasant and before long Sam found himself on the brink of orgasm.

“Dean, I-”

“Go on, whenever you’re ready, Sam.”

And it was like he had needed that permission because his body shot off instantly. He could still feel Dean moving as he came down from the high and tried to hide his wince- now that he’d attained orgasm, the feel of Dean moving inside him was considerably less pleasant. As though he read his mind, Dean stilled. Sam opened his eyes to watch his brother, heart clenching as he realized that there wa no sign of any pleasure on Dean’s visage.

“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked as he withdrew carefully.

Sam could feel the head of Dean’s cock still inside him, but the rest of him was outside and Sam watched as the man began to jerk himself off. The movements were practiced, mechanical and Sam tried to clench down and offer whatever little pleasure he could but dean was beyond it. It was not long before he ejaculated, filling Sam’s inside.

Sam held his breath as Dean carefully withdrew from his body, responding eagerly as the man came around the table to kiss him again. He jumped as a plug was pushed up his sore channel, sealing him, but when Dean’s eyes widened in concern he only shook his head, offering a warm smile.

 _They had done it-_ he thought to himself, it had to mean that they would be released shortly, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I did justice to the wait... let me know your thoughts, 'kay?. 
> 
> *runs off nervously to hide*


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter-17

 

“Well done,” A female voice called out and Sam tensed.

He was still naked and on the gurney, his release drying slowly on his and Dean’s stomach while a plug sealed Dean’s ejaculate inside Sam’s rectum. Dean had kissed him after the procedure, but Sam knew that the action was for his benefit and not Dean’s. The older Winchester had gone quiet after enquiring about Sam’s welfare and knowing Dean’s penchant for falling silent if he was sufficiently traumatised, it worried Sam. Though he didn’t _remember_ it himself, their father’s diary mentioned Dean had not spoken for months after their mother’s death. And he had vague recollections of Dean not speaking during one of their stays with Pastor Jim- it had taken them going to Fitchberg, Wisconsin and battling that shtriga for Sam to learn the whole story and make the connection. And Dean never spoke of it, but Sam suspected that Dean had gone quiet after his departure for Stanford as well... because for the first month, Dean never failed to answer his phone calls, but he never spoke. Sam didn’t know how Dean had coped after he had jumped into the cage with Lucifer, but to have Dean go quiet now was terrifying under the circumstances.

He sat up slowly; acutely aware of how _dishevelled_ he looked and felt his heart warm when Dean stepped in front, partially shielding the woman’s view of him with his body. Dean himself was still naked and couldn’t have looked much better than him given their activities, but his brother would always offer up his body as Sam’s personal shield and the knowledge made him both grateful and sad.

“I must say, that was quite a show you put up,” The woman continued when it became obvious that Dean wasn’t going to respond.

“So we- we’re free to go?” Dean asked, and Sam winced at how hoarse the man’s voice sounded- like he’d been gargling nails.

“Once the procedures are complete, yes”

Dean’s shoulders relaxed at the words while Sam’s tightened. He flattened his palm against Dean’s back, hidden from view and his brother understood the unvoiced question. “May I ask what procedures?”

“Why don’t we just finish the medicals for now and allow you to rest? You’ll find out about the procedures soon enough. Tomorrow morning, in fact.” The woman countered.

Knowing an unwinnable battle when he saw one, Dean nodded. Sam kept his head lowered till the woman left the room before turning to Dean. “ _Medical ?!_ ”

“They’ll just check if I tore you up or not, Sammy.” Dean told him tiredly; voice still hoarse and gravely-just as the door opened again to presumably let in the doctor.

Sam shivered as he lay back again and offered his brother a nervous smile when Dean’s fingers buried themselves in his hair to offer wordless comfort. He kept his gaze on Dean as the doctor removed his plug with an embarrassing squelching sound and bit his lip as latex covered fingers probed his tender insides; relaxing only once he was sealed up again. Dean’s gaze, in contrast, was focussed on the doctor and Sam could see the tension in the shoulders drain once the doctor proclaimed that Dean had not, in fact, torn Sam... Walking back to their cell was surprisingly awkward with him needing Dean’s assistance but Sam barely noticed, mind whirring with the possibilities that awaited them the next day... and more importantly, on the _procedures_ that had been scheduled for them.

Neither Winchester spoke; far too used to each other to need words as they prepared for bed. Sam kept sneaking glances at Dean, but the older Winchester looked like he was functioning on autopilot and Sam didn’t want to interrupt whatever coping method Dean was using to deal. Still, he couldn’t help but tear up as Dean lay down on his back, arms pillowed beneath his head and staring sightlessly at the underside of the top bunk; not reacting when Sam curled into him.

Sam kept watching long after the lights went out in the cell, the dim light from the corridors the only thing that illuminated the space and perhaps it was only because he was watching for so long that he noticed the silent tear that escaped Dean’s eye and disappeared into the hair at his temple.  His brother was frighteningly still and if he had not felt the heart beneath his palm, Sam might have feared worse; as it was Dean looked like living death. ... he figured it was an apt analogy for what had transpire earlier in the day: Dean had once gone to Hell to save Sam’s life, and today he had visited his own personal hell to take care of him once again. There was truly nothing Dean wouldn’t do for him, Sam realized; be it literal or figurative, Dean would go to any hell if it meant protecting Sam. And while the sentiment was honourable, Sam just wished it wasn’t so hard on his brother. He wondered if it would have been better had he confessed his feelings for Dean transcended fraternal... sure, it would have made things awkward between them; but knowing what he knew now, Dean would have never cast him aside. Unfortunately, he had understood that only after they had been brought here and the fear of losing his brother had kept his lips sealed. And now Dean was paying the price for it; believing he had committed a heinous transgression when nothing could be further from the truth.

It was too late now and Sam could offer comfort in the only way he knew: pressing closer to his brother and entangling their legs together to show that what happened had not changed his feelings for Dean. Even knowing he would not receive a response, he pressed his lips over Dean’s chest, “Thank you.”

The heart underneath his palm stuttered at his words, but Dean remained unresponsive. ... Sam had anticipated as much, but still it hurt to realize that it was not enough to revive his brother. When Dean went under like this, time or a threat to Sam were the only ways of bringing him back- a threat to his own person never as important to the older Winchester as something threatening his precious ‘Sammy’. Sam hated that he had ever been so helpless as to make it necessary for Dean to learn to respond to his distress but it was a trait that had ensured Sam survived childhood with a distracted and often drunk and negligent father. When he’d been but a baby, even when his fussing failed to garner a response from John, Dean had always been there for him. Looking back with the eyes of an adult, he wondered how the soft sounds had ever roused a slumbering four-year old-  but Dean had learnt not only responded to his soft whimpers, but to take care of the issue as well before he disturbed their father.

_Who answered when Dean had needed help?_

 He knew the answer was no one, not that his brother would agree. Whenever he tried to thank his brother for everything the man had done for him, Dean spoke of the times when Sam had taken care of him when he’d been the one who was sick or hurt but Sam knew that while that was not a lie, he would never be able to repay the years and years of selfless love Dean had showered upon him. ... Today had been especially hard upon his brother and Sam hoped he would someday be successful in convincing Dean that he had enjoyed their joining. For now he could only watch over him and wait for morning and the ‘procedures’ it would bring.

**Author's Note:**

> Complete prompt-For x reason (not important, upto author if you want to expand), either sam or dean must submit to the other. If they don't, they will both be taken and forced to submit to outsiders. Problem is, given their history, both Winchesters suffer from obvious trust issues and find it hard to give up 'control'- and they are both aware of how hard this will be on their brother if he submits. I'm picturing a scene with Sam and Dean facing each other, completely surrounded by 'villains/enforcers' as they wordlessly try to determine who will submit to whom. Then Dean whispers 'please, Sammy' and Sam knows he cannot let dean do this- dean has always played a 'protector' role with him and even if he agrees, he will never be truly able to submit as would be needed. He lowers his eyes in silent acceptance. He is horrified when Dean's first order is 'strip', but then the man is wrapping his own jacket around his naked form and Sam relaxes.  
> I would like to see Dean as a very competent 'dom/top'- he would be horrible for anyone regular person, but he knows Sam and his triggers and it is laughably simple ow he can make Sam obey. Sam for his part finds it embarrassing how good he feel giving up control. He always knew his brother wanted the best for him, but now that Dean very literally 'owns' him, he is grateful for it. There is a mandatory sexual aspect to the ownership, but Dean is careful and Sam, who was never one for regular one-night stands; finds its actually better with dean than with anyone he'd slept with before.
> 
> Tl;Dr- Dean has to 'own' Sam, and though he's humiliated by the situation, Sam learns that he actually enjoys being owned.


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